Resident Evil: Dawn of Uroboros
by Dark Glass Marionette
Summary: The fight was never over, the nightmare never went away. With one simple infection, Jill finds herself involved in something she never thought she'd live through. Time is running out and with his awakening, the spider of tragedy starts to spin its web.
1. Chapter I: Home, Sweet Home

**Author's Note:** Oh hell yeah! Another RE story and a brand new one! Alright, let me tell something about this one:

1) It's post-RE5, which means it's my own take on what happens next (everyone's got theirs)  
2) Some of the characters are completely made up for the plot's sake and everything's gonna be a bit more complicated. Some of the OCs are related to canon characters but that doesn't make them Mary Sues or Gary Stus, alright? So read before judging, people, it doesn't hurt.  
3) This is (beware!!!) going to be a **love triangle**, okay? So if you don't like it, don't read it. Also, it's going to be mainly psychological with a bit of action and the inevitable romance a love triangle thingy involves. For starters, it's going to be a ChrisxJillx???? Aha! Surprise character, not telling who it is until later on. You'll have to stick with this one to find out.  
4) Rating may go **up from T to M (sometimes).**

5) Enjoy. Please, do enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. The updates will come weekly and as such, since I have eight chapters completed, it'll cover up two months of updates. I have exam week coming in barely one week, so thank goodness I won't fall behind with updates.

Without further adeu, I leave you to start reading **Resident Evil: Dawn of Uroboros.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs // 'New Perspective' does not belong to me, but to Panic! At The Disco. Lyrics taken only for recreational use, no profit obtained.  
**

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**Resident Evil: Dawn of Uroboros

_Summary:_ _Post-RE5. The fight against Uroboros is still ongoing. Chris and Jill have returned form Africa safe and sound, ready to start anew. But after a new mission goes wrong, everything takes a turn from the worst: Uroboros has risen again... and in more ways that one.  
_

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I

Home, Sweet Home

_'Stop there and let me correct it, I wanna live a life with a new perspective...'_

"Jill? Jill, for God's sake, say something!"

After having knocked a few times on the bathroom door without an answer, Chris was starting to feel frustrated. Again, he knocked twice on the door, leaned forward and narrowed his eyes, carefully listening to any sound Jill made from the inside. A few seconds later, he heard her exclaim in frustration.

"Goddamnit!" Her voice, muffled and angry, was accompanied by a sigh. "Why does a woman's hair have to be so difficult to fix sometimes?!"

Chris laughed at her words, and now he could imagine her gazing at him with an angry glower as if the wall was invisible. Jill had a nasty temper sometimes, and this was one of the many times she put it on display. And when that happened, Chris knew it was best to stay away from her or, at least, start only the necessary conversations. He would overlook that rule this one time though.

Before he could say anything else, Jill stated, "That's it! I'm having a haircut again!" Suddenly, Chris' smile faded away and it was replaced by a look of surprise, his eyes growing wide.

"Oh, no! Don't you dare do that, Jillian!"

Jill snorted. "You're not going to change my mind, _Christopher_!" Her retort made Chris cringe a little bit after registering the use of his full name; she'd called him that way such a scant number of times he still wasn't used to it. He sighed, blinking a few times to avoid snapping at her. Man, she was hard-headed!

"C'mon, don't do this to me… You look better with long hair, Jill! Do me a favour and leave it as it is, okay?"

"That's one of the many favours I'll grant you, and you still owe me the rest," she snapped.

"Jill, you never cease to surprise me. I never thought you were so childish," Chris mock-scolded her.

"Ha ha, very funny." She gave out a false laugh. Chris smiled.

"But I guess you have a point," he nodded in agreement. "It's not like I understand what it means to have long hair." After saying that, he froze and his eyebrows went up in disbelief. As if she had read his mind, Jill burst out laughing inside the bathroom, almost unable to control her laughter.

"Oh… oh God…" She spoke between spasms of laughter. "Oh, man… I'd better pull myself together…" After having collected herself again, she said, "That was the point I was trying to make, but anyway."

Chris swivelled around towards the door as if he'd just been poked with a spear, and stared at the door, one eyebrow raised. "You'd better _not_ have touched the scissors!"

He heard Jill click her tongue. "Shut up, idiot. I'm not cutting my hair any time in the years to come."

"I thought you'd decided on the contrary just seconds ago!" Chris whined, knowing he was irritating her. He heard the sound of the hairdryer for a few moments before Jill gave a sharp exhale in satisfaction.

"Alright, I'm comin' out! Hold on tight to your seats, gentlemen!"

Much to his surprise though, Jill didn't storm outside with one hand balled into a fist, which would be directed either to his gut or his face; that choice was her own. Instead, she slid the bolt off the door and stepped out with a towel covering her head, as if she were a sheepish girl in high school who didn't want her striking hair to be noticed. She met his gaze with an even one of her own, mirth dancing in her eyes and a small smile playing on her lips, barely noticeable.

Chris blinked a few more times before revealing the question he hid in his gaze. Jill didn't answer it, her gaze averted from Chris', and he slowly smiled as he realized what Jill was hiding. Once he got a closer look, he could very well see a few locks of her hair uncovered by the blue towel, locks of _brown_ hair.

"You dyed it back!" he remarked once Jill slipped the towel off her head and revealed her brown tresses.

"Yeah, I'm finally the same." Chris noticed the trace of sadness in those words, and he frowned in concern as he bit the inner side of his lip, losing a bit of his glee.

No matter if it had been four months or a year since the incident in Kijuju, since the incident at the Spencer state, Jill would still be haunted by those events till the end of her days. It was senseless to try and lock it away, to erase it from her mind, because the skeletons in the closet would once again make noise eventually. If she couldn't forget, there was always a way to avoid recalling those memories: she'd just make new ones. That's what she had done.

Due to that method, which had worked for her as well as for Chris, they had 'reshaped' themselves into different people. Of course, the change hadn't been radical but it was in their demeanour and their overall state where the differences had been most noticeable. They regained the cheery and outgoing attitude that characterized them, the icy splinters of despair and sadness in their hearts having melted away. Besides, knowing there was no sun that would cast Wesker's shadow upon them again was the most relieving fact of all.

In the beginning, it had been horribly difficult to take care of Jill. Many sleepless nights had been the ones which Chris had spent watching over her as the after-effects of being administered the P30 chemical took their toll on her. For a week, she had been in the worst of states so far, the paleness the sickness caused adding up to her already ghostly white colour. It had made her look as if she were made of porcelain, as if she would shatter with nothing more than a brush.

The after-effects were accompanied by trauma, usual nightmares and hallucinations, and that had happened to Jill as well as to Chris, who had taken it easy to get over them. Jill had even relived experiences in her sleep, commonly waking up with her heart racing in her chest in the middle of the night and, as such, losing sleep as well as -sometimes- waking Chris up. Those four months proved to be hellish, plagued with horrible flashbacks and memories coming back to haunt them.

Everything eventually returned to normal. In those four months, Chris had contacted his sister, Claire, much more often, to her joy. He was informed of the many things that had transpired since they last saw each other, such as how she had ended up with that Kennedy guy -Leon, he remembered suddenly. At the news, Chris' sense of protectiveness had kicked in and, at the other side of the phone, he'd cocked an eyebrow when he'd heard Leon speak in the background. Fortunately, things hadn't been as bad as he'd thought.

And now, that sense of protectiveness had kicked in much more fiercely this time, and not because of someone else. It had been because of him.

Alright, let's be honest: Chris hadn't seen it coming, even if the 'high-school boy' type of crush on Jill was more than obvious, hence the many kind gestures towards her, his always sincere but somehow sheepish smiles and the butterflies in his stomach he'd felt sometimes when in her company. Every time he denied that fact in front of a mirror, telling himself there was nothing more beyond their friendship, he just had to facepalm, and quite literally.

His crush was also the reason why he'd offered to stay with Jill, and Claire, who had a knack for figuring out her brother's feelings many times, had wished him good luck with quite the sly tone, and that had made Chris flush a faint shade of red. Jill didn't refuse; she needed someone to spend time with and, as Chris had eventually come to know, she had developed a phobia of being alone if there was no remedy to it.

Finding herself alone triggered flashbacks and voices in her head, all reminding her of her traumatic experience while in captivity. Fortunately, Chris was always like the wind that swept everything away and the light that guided her out of the darkness. And she'd be eternally grateful for that.

They had moved to his place in New York, and in the few moments they could, they had transformed the apartment into a habitable place. Jill was surprised to see it wasn't like she imagined, the typical messy kind of apartment, but still there were things out of place and missing 'survival deffos' -as Chris had called them- such as food and clean furniture. Of course, God hadn't looked at that place since he'd left it for good. With a few days work, the apartment was decent and then came Jill, with whom Chris had agreed to go shopping in the days that followed. With everything finished, they even looked like a--

_Damn, not that. Not that again! _

"Chris?"

Jill's voice brought him out of his reverie, and he jolted back to reality with a gasp. "Yeah?"

"Don't space out on me," she said, waving a hand in front of his eyes.

"It's okay, I was just thinking," he simpered. Then, he laid a hand on top of her head. "I'm just glad our Jilly's back." Jill folded her arms across her chest, adopting a poker face.

"Do I really look like your pet?" she grumbled, then sighed. "Oh well, I'm going to the kitchen." She corkscrewed from under Chris' hand and went past the sofa and into said room. Chris felt a small pinch in his gut.

"You're not mad, are you?"

Silence.

Then Jill poked her head around the threshold, a false angry expression on her face. "I'm going to kill you," she remarked sarcastically. "How could I be mad at you? You're right after all, Chris: even though it's taking time, I'm slowly coming back." She winked an eye at him and disappeared into the kitchen again.

"That's nice to hear!" Chris rejoiced as he fell in line behind her.

_Thank God I didn't lose you._

Pushing the thought away -in spite of having to agree with it-, he asked Jill, "Wasn't it my turn to cook today?"

Jill scoffed. "You can't even cook a decent omelette, Chris."

The comment made Chris swivel around sharply and glare at her, offended. "Excuse me! For your information, not all men have lousy cooking skills, Madame La-Chapelle. How did you think Claire and I sustained ourselves when we were alone?"

In spite of her laugh, Chris knew she had sensed him hesitating for a brief moment. Talking about his deceased parents was nothing he never did with ease, but who could anyway? He didn't bring up the matter again, switching to another topic with a flicker of his hand. Jill caught his hint.

"Madame La-Chapelle?" she echoed, reaching for a frying pan inside a nearby drawer. Chris nodded as he collected a pair of spatulas.

"La-Chapelle was French master cook of the seventeenth century. Since you claim to cook much better than me, I thought that was the appropriate nickname for you today," he explained light-heartedly, "Even though he was a man." He then added with a shrug of his shoulders.

Jill tilted her head to one side, amused. "So, what's the recipe today?" she inquired, hands on her hips. His eyes looked up, as if studying the ceiling, and then he snapped his fingers, having found the answer.

"I was thinking of fried rice with vegetables and fish," he replied. "Any suggestions you'd like to voice out?"

"Only one," Jill stated, still skeptical. "Don't leave my kitchen in a mess. I'm sure you're a tragedy waiting to happen."

"Who do you think I am? Alright, let's make a bet: if I don't make it, I'm yours to tease tonight, even torture if you want to… although with moderation, eh? Don't get any funny ideas," he proposed, leaning forward.

"And what happens if you actually make it?" asked Jill, even though she already knew what Chris would say in return. Her suspicions were proven correct when he gave her a crooked smirk.

"Then it's _you_ who I get to tease," he said simply, his tone challenging. Jill measured his words with a teaspoon, careful enough not to reply right off the bat. But she wasn't one to back away when a challenge was thrown at her, so she agreed with a firm handshake.

"Deal."

Chris nodded again. "Well then, you set the table whilst I get on with this. You're going to regret having accepted the deal, I'm telling you."

Jill gulped, her eyes widening and her back to Chris.

"Uh… don't scare me. Yours is an evil mind, did you know that?" she joked.

"I try my best to be evil sometimes, just so you know. But I can restrain myself when I'm around you, don't worry."

"Chris, you're not helping. Shut up," Jill snapped categorically from the other room, muting the clinking of the forks in her hand. Chris cleared his throat to avoid a laugh and got to work.

Jill, on the other hand, set the table in less than five minutes and then gathered her hair up in a neat ponytail. She gazed at her reflection in a wide mirror above a cabinet and couldn't help but to stare at it, her brow creasing.

It was so very different to see herself in such a state of concern given the circumstances. She was living a new life, a life free of despair's clutches, but she still couldn't shake off an uncomfortable feeling of trepidation. Right off the bat she knew something wrong was going to happen. Not wrong, but _horrible_.

Superstitious? Perhaps she was. Unsure? Sure as hell not.

A while later -Jill didn't know how long he'd taken- Chris stepped out of the kitchen, two plates of warm food in his hands, and Jill smiled at him. Remembering their deal, she instantly trotted to the kitchen and found it tidied up, the used pans and utensils in the sink and what was left to return to its place was all grouped next to the cooker.

From the beginning, Jill had known her chances of winning the bet had dropped somewhere near zero, but after seeing the kitchen for herself, the chances went over zero and, if possible, beyond. She half-turned to Chris, offering him a willed smile.

"Looks like you did it," she remarked, unable to say something else.

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Jill," Chris replied good-naturedly. "Although I almost messed up a couple of times," he added, but that was of no consolation to Jill.

They sat down at the table and began to eat. They didn't talk much, as usual. At meals, they were the most silent, yet not uncomfortably. It was a peaceful and relaxing silence, only disturbed by the usual _cling_s of the forks and knives.

Once they were finished, Jill couldn't help but to recline in her seat, exhaling. "It didn't seem much, but I'm stuffed. You've proved you can cook, Chris. I admit my defeat."

Chris smiled faintly and took a sip of his water.

"I'm victorious once again. You should know better than to mess with me."

"Hey, it was you who made the bet in the first place!" Jill protested, straightening in her seat. "Don't lay the blame on me."

"Well, that's true, but you were deal less than a second later," Chris argued nonchalantly. "But anyway…" He let his voice trail off, dropping a hint Jill caught less than a split second later.

"Give me a break, Chris," she said as she stood up in frustration. "I want you no less than two metres away from me; do it and I'll kick your ass."

Folding his arms across his chest, Chris lifted his eyebrows.

"You wouldn't."

"Wanna make another bet?"

"You'd lose again," Chris simpered as he imitated her action. They were about to bicker good-naturedly again when Chris' phone rang and vibrated inside the pocket of his jacket. With two long strides he was next to it, and he picked up.

"Redfield."

The voice that spoke sounded very familiar, "_Chris, this is important._"

Immediately, Chris put the phone on speaker and approached Jill, his brow creasing. "Alright, tell me."

"_The Captain called up a meeting this morning at 0900 hours. He mentioned something about Uroboros again, and he selected you and Jill for this next mission,_" said Sheva with a calmness that tried to hide the uneasiness in her voice. Chris exchanged an anxious look with Jill, whose eyes had widened, and he pursed his lips.

"You were called to the meeting?"

"_No,_" Sheva denied. "_Graves told me that it was imperative that nobody else knew about this, so he decided to speak to me first. I don't know, he seemed... very distrustful of something, I don't know what. __He asked me to contact you, and I would've done it sooner if the telephone system wasn't so bad around here. __ Graves should've sent you all the information through e-mail by now."_

"E-mail? Well, it's a less riskier method than using the phone, yes," Chris agreed. "Okay, we'll check it right now. Thanks for calling."

"_You're welcome. Just a question, how's Jill doing?_" inquired the African woman, her tone a bit more chipper. Jill smiled sadly and replied in Chris' place.

"I'm doing much better, Sheva, thank you for asking."

They could imagine Sheva smiling on the other side of the phone. "_I'm glad to hear that. Good luck, okay?_"

An unsettling silence followed after the call, and Chris slowly raised his gaze to Jill. He could see the change in her demeanour; her breathing was slow and calm but it betrayed the anxiety she was feeling. Her blue eyes were clouded by doubt and uneasiness, and Chris gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

"You okay, Jill?" he asked in an undertone. Jill took a few moments to reply with a shaky nod.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry." With a worried glance at him, she added, "What do you think this is all about?"

"Well, she mentioned Uroboros, so possibly another deal or something," he proposed, going over all the possibilities they had faced before. "Who knows what it can be though? We're open to suggestions." Then, his eyes narrowed and he clenched his fist. "Damn Gionne! There had to be two of them instead of one, eh?"

"There's no way around this kind of situations," Jill said with a shake of her head. "It's either killing the one responsible or you end up screwed. Remember what they did to us after we got back from Africa? Tricell made it unscathed thanks to Gionne's prevarication skills."

"Just like Umbrella…" sighed Chris. "Yeah, I remember. It reminded me of Raccoon City and Irons, but it was with Tricell this time. One thing's for sure: Gionne bought off the government's help; it wouldn't be an up without a down otherwise. Falsified files, no solid evidence of Excella's activities…"

He crossed his arms.

"Well, we can't complain. The Consortium's sudden decision in favour of disbanding Tricell got everyone with their pants down."

"Excuse my humour, but isn't this just becoming a little too repetitive?" Jill inquired rhetorically. "It's always like this…" Her voice trailed away, and she lowered her head. Then she shook it again, her expression hardening. "Let's worry about what we're going to do first. The end will depend on how this situation develops; let's take it all step by step."

Chris agreed with a short smile, "You're right." He chuckled. "Keeping worry on the leash as always, huh?"

She then added with a sad smile, "I guess that teasing will have to wait, right?"

Chris averted his gaze and clenched his fist. Uroboros… the first image they could relate to the name was Wesker's, and Chris knew Jill had had the same thoughts as him, hence that sudden bolt of trepidation that had struck her. The battle against Wesker had been only that, a battle, but the war was still on.

After arriving from Africa, the BSAA made the Consortium aware of the company's plans and the decision of disbanding Tricell was made instantly. Of course, the company had defended itself against the Consortium's accusations quite skilfully, accusing the deceased Excella of the company's predicament.

At a certain point in their argument, Wesker's name came up. It was then when the Consortium knew of Wesker's interferences with Tricell: he had made the African branch independent of the company and had kept the facility standing with the funds they collected from the deals with the black market, along with his own money. Irving had been an important factor in the funding because of his connections to other dealers.

The validity of the statement was confirmed but with reluctance, and Tricell made it out of the meeting relatively unscathed. Then, two weeks later, the Consortium took action and Tricell was immediately disbanded, meeting its end. Just as Chris had said, it caught everyone off their guard and the decision caused a period of hyperactivity between black-market dealers, who yearned to put their hands on the samples that were beyond Tricell's and the BSAA's control. Uroboros and Las Plagas had been the most popular.

As such, in late May, bioterrorist activity resurfaced in several locations of the world, which meant Tricell was narrowly related to it. And so it was. All the incarcerated bioterrorists had referred to a single person: Marco Gionne, the new CEO of the newly-restored bioweapons development division. That division had been previously headed by Excella, and now her brother had followed her steps out of revenge. The activities had gone unnoticed, until Marco had put his plans into motion.

If Marco was as dangerous as Excella had been, then the BSAA was about to face something greater.

The BSAA wasn't there just for fun though. Chris and Jill had a new job to do, and they would see it through.

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_A/N: That's a start, things are going to get serious from here on in. As you can see, I've made up Marco Gionne to be the potential next villain in this story. Tricell's back, the BSAA's in trouble and Chris and Jill better watch their backs. You'll see what comes next, stay tuned!_

_Reviews are appreciated!  
_


	2. Chapter II: Of Success And Plans

II

Of Success and Plans

_'Believe those who are seeking the truth; doubt those who find it.' __Andre Gide_

How long had it been since she had seen her? How long since she had heard her voice calling her name ever so gently?

She didn't have the time to be thinking about that. Right now, there were much more important matters at hand, like finishing the many projects she had started. They had taken long to be set into motion and she didn't intend to waste time on unnecessary matters like wondering about past events and reflecting on the past. The present and the future were what mattered now, nothing else.

She browsed through the files that were neatly stacked on her desk, her brow creasing gradually. Her current project was turning out quite nicely but it presented a few anomalies, which she wasn't too keen on. It bothered her to see that he, her actual project, was unnaturally complicated and breakthroughs were very scarce lately. Although she couldn't complaint; things could've gone worse.

She sighed, gazing at her watch. It was late, almost eleven thirty in the night, and she couldn't avoid a sad, faint smile. Her expression softened momentarily, allowing her mind to drift and focus on the image of an amiable blond man, flashing a smile at her, a gesture which was almost unnatural in him. She had to shake the thought away and regain her composure when someone knocked at her door and, with a dull 'Come in', she allowed him inside.

The person who entered the room was a man in his early thirties, with short black hair and grey eyes which reflected his anxiety and uneasiness. She had a knack for intimidating people but come on, what was wrong with her? She certainly wasn't a viper that would bite at the slightest of provocations, so why the fear? Possibly, it was an inherited trait.

"Yes, James, what is it?" she asked evenly, folding her hands on the table. James stepped forward and handed her a folder with a couple of files inside in a somewhat ginger way.

"This is the latest report, miss. There's… there's been breakthrough. The subject's conscious, miss Birkin," he spoke with anxiousness and urgency, and she shot up from her seat.

"Conscious? Are you sure?!" she questioned with the same anxiousness as him, but also rejoicing. Her blue eyes lightened up with hope, and James allowed himself a small smile in return. She did the same as him, a smile lightening up her beautiful features, and both she and James made their way to the main laboratory.

It was time her efforts paid off. Sherry Birkin got what she wanted.

xx

The following morning, Chris and Jill checked his in-box for that e-mail Oliver Graves, one of the Original Eleven, had sent them yesterday. Whilst Jill prepared two hot cups of coffee, Chris sat in front of his HP laptop and, after several seconds, his in-box and the list of unread e-mails -which was quite big- appeared on his screen. In that moment, Jill stepped outside the kitchen, cups in hand, and sat in a chair beside him.

"Okay, let's see what we're up to," he uttered with a sigh. As he clicked on Graves' message, he sipped his coffee and he found just a small message that said:

_Chris, the mission is top-secret. I've uploaded the briefing to the server; use the password below and I'll contact you._

"Top-secret? I don't like this..."

Unconsciously, Jill strengthened the grip on her mug, her knuckles acquiring a soft white colour. For some reason, she had the feeling this was the start of what she had feared and that it would only develop into something worse. She bit her lip and frowned. Her uneasiness spiked when Chris was finished following Graves' instructions and several windows popped up promptly, as much as her cell phone rang.

Speechless, she sprung to her feet and retrieved her phone from the table at the entrance hall. Once she put it on speaker, Graves' low and vibrant voice filled the room they were in.

"_G'morning Chris, Jill._"

"Morning, sir," she said in return, "So, what's this all about?"

Graves took a moment to reply, "_Well, I told you the mission was top-secret, right? And believe me, I'm not kidding: if the Consortium finds out about this, the BSAA is screwed and, per ende, you two and me, so listen carefully. _

"_Whilst I was going over the files we found at Tricell's database, I found out that the company still has its ties to the government, hence why they haven't taken any kind of action against the new Tricell yet. I have the gut feeling that Gionne is either bribing the bosses in charge, has an infiltrated agent or, what could be worse, it's both. If that agent's been here for long, it's very possible he's in the BSAA right now; I don't know in which branch though. Proof of this is that we should've gotten information about recent deals three weeks ago and, whilst we did get it, it was completely wrong: we were left both blind and deaf, and the deals were carried out successfully._"

"Shit..."

Graves chuckled. "_You got it, Chris. Now, on to the big deal: if it happens he has the agent in the Alliance and we take action immediately, Gionne's going to suspect something's cooking and the government, because of his influence, would make the Alliance kick the bucket; it'd be on the fritz in the nick of time and we can't allow that. What we're going to do is this. Chris, check the file that says __**'61INPL'**__."_

Chris did as told. He and Jill found the map of a building and a profile on someone, someone by the name of Vasily Ivanov.

"Vasily Ivanov?" he read out loud, focusing on his picture.

"_Yeah, that's the guy we're goin' after. He's a black-market dealer closely related to Irving; they were very good friends and they normally operated together, sharing the benefits fifty-fifty. I found that he's got another deal in his agenda involving Uroboros, one that's gonna take place tomorrow, at 1900 hours local time in Naples, Italy. I've enclosed the place's map and layout, check it out with care,_" Graves replied.

"The building's underground?" asked Chris once he and Jill examined it thoroughly.

"_Not at all; that's a map of the subbasement, just in case you need it. You'll make it through a back door, very well concealed. Since the building is a warehouse, be very careful._"

"Is this part of the strategy to keep the mission 'top-secret'?" intervened Jill, glancing at the phone and expecting a convincing answer.

"_Yes, because I'm about to tell you about the difficult part. Our objective is to arrest Ivanov as stealthily as possible. Ivanov also has his connections to Gionne and if he finds out we're behind the operation, as I said before--_"

"We'd kick the bucket. Gionne would manage to turn the operation against us and, with the influence, have everything play on his favour," said Jill with a nod. "What about this mole you suspect he has in the Alliance?" she asked then.

"_That's the other thing that's bothering me, Jill_," Graves replied with a tinge of uneasiness. "_I'm still waiting for authorization from the European branch to operate within their jurisdiction, but they've already told me that they're sending in another agent to assist you. I don't know why, but I suspect this agent is going to be the mole; it wouldn't surprise me if it was. He'd try to know about you as much as possible so that he gets the information to Gionne. Have in mind that this is all hypothetical, it's mere speculation. Don't share this information with _anyone_ within the Alliance; we'd be in deep shit if word got out._"

"We'd better watch out then. I'll let Jill do the talking, I'll do the observation," said Chris, shooting Jill a sideways glance and a smirk. "Who's this guy you're talking about?" he then inquired, crossing his arms.

"_Eric Olsen._"

"I've heard about him before," said Jill, blinking twice. "He made it into the Alliance in 2004, right? He was the popular rookie at that time. He's in the European branch."

"_Oh, man... Well, thank goodness we have your memory, Valentine,_" Graves complimented good-naturedly, and she could imagine him smirking.

"So this makes him much more suspicious," Chris reasoned, "and we'd have two people to arrest instead of one if things got bad. If this Eric Olsen is going to be our next partner and if he's indeed related to Gionne, then I guess we'll have Marco breathing on our necks. Eric's going to be just like his second pair of eyes."

"_He was the popular and _bastardly_ rookie, don't forget about that,_" interjected Graves with a snort. "_Your orders are simple: bust the party and get Ivanov before he gets to the building tomorrow. Olsen told me it'd be best if you met him in Philadelphia, at the airport, and he requested that you are there as soon as possible, so it's got to be for today."_

"It's still early..."

"_That wasn't a complaint, wasn't it, Redfield?_" Graves snapped, a cool edge to his voice.

"Not at all, sir, I was just thinking..." Chris replied. "We could be ready for eleven in the morning today; know of any flights that get you to Philly that early in the morning?"

"_Not really, although you really don't think you'll be going via normal plane?_" his superior said with a looser tone.

"I didn't think so," smirked Jill. Graves also chuckled over the phone.

"_You'd do the following: meet Olsen at Philadelphia and then head to Naples from there. There'll be a plane waiting for you at PHL. You'll be in Italy between 3 and 4 pm local time there, alright? Try to sleep in the plane just in case._"

"Got that, Graves.

"We'd have from four to three hours to get ready?" asked Jill, lifting her eyebrows. "Man, you guys are in a rush."

"_Considering we screwed up a few weeks ago, I guess this is the way to make it up to the people,_" snapped Graves. "_Everything is accounted for: schedule is set, the reservations are made and you only need to approach the boarding gates and state your names for them to let you in. Some identification would suffice, too."_

"Effective!" exclaimed Chris with a smirk. "Okay, then. So the deal involves Uroboros, it's to take place in Naples and tomorrow the 22nd, correct?"

"_Yes. If for some reason Ivanov manages to escape, there will be a team of snipers as support to give chase. We can't let him get away. The building's near_ _Piazza Dante_, _'Largo del Mercatello' street,_" Graves told them.

"These guys in Italy seem confident."

"We shouldn't let it get to our heads, though," Jill piped up, raising her index finger. "We can't guarantee they don't have any kind of monster lying around there as a method of security. It's mere speculation, but we shouldn't discard the possibility."

"They wouldn't be as stupid as to let something on the loose, Jill," Chris argued with a frown. "Although it's not as reckless as it sounds, really. It might not be a BOW what they have as a defence system, but the agent that creates them itself."

Jill cringed inwardly when she heard Chris' suggestion and she knew he could also be right. What it if was the T-virus or some other of the strains?

"_An outbreak there would be too much for them to handle. Besides, it's just a deal. Don't misunderstand me, the deal's pretty important itself, but you know they can't control the BOWs,_" Graves returned, but then Chris made a blunt gesture with his hand, signalling the end of the discussion.

"End of discussion, people. If we keep this up, we won't be able to concentrate on what we have to deal with. Let's hope our predictions are all wrong, but let's also hope it's nothing worse," he said firmly, but Jill could see how that determination veiled the doubt behind his eyes. He was right though: speculation would do nothing towards the matter.

"_It surprises me you can put an end to this kind of conversations, Redfield,_" intervened Graves, allowing himself a bit of humour. "_Anyway, you should get ready. I'll give the guys at Europe a call, alright? I'll tell 'em you'll be there tomorrow first thing in the morning._"

"Alright, much appreciated," nodded Jill.

"_I'll keep in contact in case somethin' else comes up, 'kay? Be- Oh, shit..._"

"Sir, what's wrong?" Chris piped up, stiffening. Graves sighed.

"_They won't grant the authorization you need... Well, you got some news: for the first time in these six years I've been in the BSAA, I'm going to make them stick the authorization up a place we all know._"

"Wait a sec. A higher-up skipping regulations?" Jill smirked, amused.

"_You heard me,_" Graves confirmed, "_I don't care about authorizations: this is Uroboros we're talking about and I'm not going to risk it. There, now you have another reason why you should keep this mission a secret. I'll call these guys at Europe, as I said before, to say that we agree; let's see how they handle it. On the other side, you're going in, okay?_"

"Yes, sir."

"_Be careful guys; we're counting on ya."_

Graves hung up, leaving Chris and Jill in an uncomfortable silence. Jill glanced at him, watching him frown pensively and drop his gaze. She felt her fair share of uneasiness but, for some reason, it was affecting Chris much more. Of course, one mistake and Uroboros would be spread through the world, and it wouldn't take long for it to plunge Naples into chaos in the first place! She knew though that Chris, aside from being worried about the virus, was also worried about its creator, Albert Wesker. The knot in her stomach she already had strengthened when he spoke.

"I hope he hasn't come back."

"It couldn't be, Chris. You yourself killed him," Jill said in a soothing tone, but she herself wasn't too convinced of her own words. Chris sighed, closing his eyes.

"I know that," he insisted with a shaky nod, "but I can't help doubting what saw sometimes. Maybe it's because I still can't believe the fight against Wesker is over or... I don't know, Jill, I don't know."

Jill didn't know what to say next; she'd also had that feeling before. She lowered her head, looking away, and she gave out a low sigh, almost inaudible.

"Sorry about that, I'm a bit paranoid and I don't know why," Chris said with a shake of his head. Jill smiled faintly.

"Oh, come on, don't apologize," she replied. "I guess it's the same for me; can't help being paranoid sometimes. We'll make it through, you know that. You're the one that's always optimistic about this, so it's my turn to say something now."

Chris made a vague noise of agreement with another faint smile, but he didn't turn his head to look at her. His stubbornness was only making things worse: how to convince himself of his actions in Africa? How to tell himself he had done it, that Wesker was dead? The dead didn't come back to life, didn't they?

That was such a bad joke, and it only made Chris cringe inwardly. The dead didn't come back to life, yes; that only happened in horror movies. Only horror movies explained the resurrections with viruses or by some kind of supernatural phenomenon. Chris had fought them himself, so there was no way to think it was a movie or fiction.

But if his life itself wasn't a horror movie, then what was it?

Unconsciously, he sighed and ran his hands through his dark hair. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, biting his lip. That bad presentiment of his wasn't going to leave him alone, not any time soon.

_'We'll make it through...'_

How he wished what Jill had said was true...

xx

_**July 20**__**th**__**, 2009**_

_STATUS REPORT: 'Project 1960/013'._

_Date of initiation:__ March 13__th__, 20XX_

_Date of completion:__ July 20__th__, 20XX._

_Subject:__ Name unspecified._

_Viral agents:__ G-virus Beta stain Gb847, PG/013._

_Injection result:__ Successful. _

_Condition:__ Bonding process successful. Serum A-PG/013 to be administered regularly during initial phases of adaptation, which can cause instability. Beta Hetero Nonserotonin levels stable and under 7% of the expected 14%. _

_Subject status:__**Alive**__._


	3. Chapter III: The Call

III

The Call

_'When something important is going on, silence is a lie.' __A.M. Rosenthal_

**July 21**st**, 2009**

**Pennsylvania**

"_Tell me, Jill: who is it that you hate? Is it you, because of what you're about to do, or is it _me_? Your answer is quite predictable but I'd like to hear it from you; I want to hear you scream it with all the despair and rage you can muster. Because that is what'll keep me going."_

_There was no way she could fight. She was trapped inside a shell over which she had no command, she was in a cage of which she had no key to open the lock. She had tried everything to get rid of that horrible device in her chest, but she couldn't reach for it and tear it off; she had tried everything to escape his clutches, but he would defeat her and beat her again and again, making all her chances of escape plummet somewhere near zero. She knew she couldn't escape, yet she could still try. _

_And now, she had realized everything had been in vain. Every idea led to a plan, every plan led to its performance, and every performance led to inevitable torture. She was in a maze without an exit._

_There was no way she could fight._

"_Or how about this: is it hate what you really feel? Oh, I know you can hear me; I know you're still conscious. Keep hating me and I'll only grow stronger and stronger; hate me and you'll soon realize how wrong you are._"

_She remained looking at him, more like staring, and he did the same. She saw him tilt his head in light amusement and a very faint smirk spread across his tanned features. She knew she was delighting in her pain; it was all that kept him going. _

"_Oh, he's not coming," he told her. Of course, she knew who that 'he' was but for some reason couldn't think about his name. _

_He wasn't coming alright. She didn't have any more hopes: now, she could only rely on her own strength, and she doubted she still had it. Two years of fighting without results, two years of enduring pain and agony both physical and psychological, two years of _madness_. They were wounds that would never close._

"_Because you're mine."_

_There was no way she could fight._

XX

Jill woke with a strangled gasp, blinking repeatedly in an attempt to arrange her thoughts and clear her mind of the images that had flashed through it.

_It's all been a dream, Jilly, calm down…_

With her heart hammering in her ears, she shot a side-ways glance at Chris, who sat beside her in silence. She thanked he hadn't heard her gasp, afraid that he would've inquired about it and she would've had to treat the matter without importance. On the contrary, it had its importance, and too much.

Yet again the feeling of uneasiness took hold of her and made her chest shrink. She shivered involuntarily, blinking again and averting her gaze to the window. In her state of nervousness, the small gust of air that brushed her neck was like a cold and bare hand against her skin, and Jill did her best not to jump, startled; instead, she shut her eyes tight and exhaled, shaking her head. Had she just imagined it?

No, she couldn't have. In fact, in that dream she'd just had, she had remembered one of the moments of her captivity. That voice, _Wesker's_ voice, she'd heard it so naturally... like he had been right there and now, whispering those words into her ear once again. How she'd wanted to scream at him in those moments, but that mind-controlling device hadn't allowed her to and had forced to swallow back her rage and her despair. Jill even remembered being overcome by a cold-blooded killer sense which, hadn't the device been there, would've led her to beat Wesker to a pulp.

Of course, that hadn't happened, and she hadn't done so.

"Hey, Jill, what's wrong?" came Chris' low-pitched voice. Jill briefly met his gaze and then she looked down with a sigh.

"It's just been a bad dream, Chris. Nothing to worry about," she replied, forcing a smile. She could feel herself shaking and her cheeks growing warmer by the second.

_Okay, am I blushing?! Valentines never blush!_

"You seem sure of it, so I won't insist. You could kick my ass at any moment, whether it be with your foot or with your words," Chris said with a smirk, nudging her upper arm. Then, he turned serious, "But really, if there's something bothering you, don't hesitate to tell me, 'kay?"

"Sure will, thanks." With nothing else to say, Jill looked outside the window again, catching glimpse of the city that stretched out under them. And just like the plane's captain told them now,

They had arrived at Philadelphia.

After a swift and tranquil landing, they headed to the terminal and, after waiting there for exactly ten minutes, they collected their bags and made their way outside the building. The hot weather almost seemed to greet them, the sun burning even more when they stepped foot outside.

"Miss Valentine, Mr. Redfield!"

The people in question turned their heads to their left, catching sight of a young man approaching them. Jill could see Chris narrowing his eyes as the man neared them, and he frowned very slightly. Having bad feelings already, without having started the mission? Oh, boy, that was _bad_. And when Chris was suspicious of something, Jill knew better than not trusting him; his instincts had saved them many times already.

Judging by his appearance, the man would be no more than thirty years old, as indicated by the tanned tone of his skin and his thin complexion. He was blonde, his hair cut short and lustrous, and his clothes and his gait were ones of a nonchalant and cheerful person, but Chris wasn't focusing on those details, that much she could tell. When she focused on what he was focusing, it seemed to trigger an involuntary clench of his stomach: his eyes were gray, intense, deep and mysterious in spite of the good-natured glint in them.

"Yes?" Jill had replied without Chris noticing at the moment. The newcomer widened his smile.

"I'm Eric Olsen. I believe Mr. Graves has told you about me?" he asked, holding out a hand.

"He has, yes." Jill nodded, shaking Eric's hand and flashing him a faint, polite smile.

_Paranoia for the win, huh?_

"He told us you'd be our partner for this mission," said Chris, starting a conversation so that it hid his feelings toward the matter. Eric shrugged his shoulders with a snicker.

"Oh well, not exactly a _partner_, but more like a companion. Let's say I'm just here for the ride; I'm not going to do anything important. I was sent to work with you because the higher-ups wanted me to experience this kind of operations first-hand," he explained with eerie nonchalance, and he shrugged again. "Please, hop in. I'll take you to our rendezvous point with the team."

As Eric commanded, Chris and Jill got inside the shiny Toyota Verso which Eric had parked nearby and, with no conversation to start, he switched on the ignition, the engine rumbled to life and he drove the vehicle away from the terminal.

None of them opened their mouths to talk in all the time it took them to get to their destination since, if you asked Chris -who was trying to calm himself-, the silence was more than enough to express each other's thoughts. Clearly, he and Jill trusted Eric as much as he trusted them, and Chris clung to Graves' words: if Olsen was the mole...

_Then we'd better keep our mouths shut. One slip of our tongues and it's all over._

Had he had the chance to complain, he would've accused Eric of treason in less than a heartbeat, but he still couldn't jump to conclusions. The guy was a mysterious and secretive character, yeah, but his expression didn't exactly point to a backstab when they least expected it. He had to hold back a smirk as he realized the rhetoric of the situation.

_Where have we seen this before? Get ready, Chris, party's about to start and the end won't be nice._

When they wanted to realize, Eric had taken them near a broad, long hall with wide, rectangular open areas surrounded by tall buildings with many windows. Who first recognized the place from an memory that flashed through his head was Chris, having remembered the first and only time he and his family had visited Philadelphia in the winter of so many years ago: it was Independence Hall.

Eric parked the car a few meters away and they descended from the vehicle in silence. Chris exchanged a short look with Jill, who told him with her gaze what he'd been telling himself all along.

To be careful.

"Welcome to Independence Hall , or 'Pennsylvania State House' for friends of the nineteenth century," said Eric in a chipper tone and a proud look across his features.

"Built by Edmund Woolley, if I'm not wrong?" Jill commented in a casual manner. Chris lifted an eyebrow and smirked.

_That's irrelevant, all right. Nice going, Jill._

"Have you been here before, Miss Valentine?" asked Eric with almost forced politeness. She shrugged in response.

"I recognized the place," she replied, "from a postcard I was sent once." Eric blinked twice, showing himself to be interested, and Chris saw how Jill eyed him carefully, as suspicious of his actions as he was.

"So," Olsen intervened, "let me introduce you to our team. Come."

Eric guided Chris and Jill to a pair of wooden benches that were shielded from the heat thanks to the tall buildings behind. There, they saw a trio of men smiling and laughing whilst they exchanged jokes and experiences. They caused a good first impression.

"_Hey, gente, los susodichos están aquí,_" Eric said in Spanish, no English accent whatsoever.

"_¿Son ellos? La reputación les precede, ¿verdad? ¡Fíjate!_" remarked another one with a curious glance at them. This man was blonde too, his hair caught up in a haphazard tail and a wavy fringe tucked behind his ear, and his eyes were of a greenish-brown tone. At first sight, one could guess he was commended and nonchalant -quite antagonistic concepts- but also honest to the border of naivety.

"It does seem so," Eric agreed, switching back to English again. "Mr. Redfield, Miss Valentine, meet Miles Jenkins, Arturo Gil and Richard Hughes, our trusty group of snipers. They'll be the ones providing cover if things get bad."

"We certainly hope not, though. Even so," started Richard, "you don't seem like you'd mess up the mission."

"Why step into the hole whilst you can avoid it?" said Chris with a light shrug.

"True," smiled Jenkins. Then, he stepped off the bench and spoke, hands shoved in his pockets, "Since Olsen here is not really willing to start explaining, I'll do it for him."

"Be my guest; I can see you're anxious to do it." Eric's words triggered a set of laughs and a blush from Jenkins, who glared at Eric with narrowed eyes.

In those moments of arguing, Chris and Jill related descriptions to people. Arturo was the blonde one, a Spaniard; Richard was half-British and half-Scottish, both accents getting in his words' way; and Miles was fully British, his words tinged with a polished cockney accent.

Both Richard and Jenkins were pale-skinned, but Jenkins took the prize: he looked as if he was made of the most fragile of porcelains, and his bright green eyes only made him seem even more ghost-like. Richard's paleness wasn't as exaggerated as Jenkins', and his coffee-brown gaze eased the contrast between the colour of his eyes and the colour of his skin.

Chris and Jill exchanged another short look, seemingly thinking the same thing.

They weren't your ordinary team, weren't they?

"Trust me, you'll pay for this," Jenkins snapped, and then addressed the newcomers, who brought themselves out of their thoughts and concentrated on the matter at hand, "Alright, so what we had planned was this..."

xx

If Oliver Graves wasn't alone right now, the person or people who would be with him would've suffered the consequences of his outburst. If he had a trait better than anyone else's, that would be self-control, but now he had lost it... and with a very, very good reason.

Hours ago he had warned Chris and Jill of the possible mole within the BSAA and hours ago he'd sworn he'd find him. What Graves didn't expect was he would find him _this_ soon, almost one month later after the whole ship had capsized and everything concerning the dealings had gone to hell. What he didn't expect was his suspicions were proven correct.

Oh, yes... Eric Olsen wasn't who he claimed to be, he was who he _didn't_ claim to be.

When Graves had found out, he would've seen himself go ghostly pale had he had a mirror in front of him. His eyes went wide open and his heart sped up, unwilling to admit his failure. He had failed the BSAA; why hadn't he noticed sooner?! He knew Chris and Jill would handle themselves well enough, but if Olsen was a spy, then...

Much to his dread, he had achieved nothing when he tried to contact Chris. The automatic operator always said the same thing: his phone was off. And the result had been the same when he had relied the information to the European branch and they'd tried to contact him from there.

Oliver grimaced, upset, and slammed his fist on the table.

_For fuck's sake, why now?! This will not go unnoticed, I swear it won't! Betrayed by our own people... And now I thank God I don't have nor the will or the ability to bust inside Europe HQ and just kill them all for what they have done. You can't trust anyone, not even your companions. Goddamnit, not wrong information! Looks like money is what's guaranteed, not partnership. I should've known better._

Graves raked his hands through his hay-coloured hair and exhaled in an attempt to calm down his nerves. Then, he turned on his heels and left the room, slamming the door closed behind him.

_Don't act rashly, Oliver, think about it twice or count to ten before you do something stupid. Don't let your temper get the best of you... but it's frustrating, goddamn it! Oscar's going to pay for his mistakes, I guarantee that._

Now, what was important was keeping a cool head. Whatever the outcome of the situation was, he'd do his best to avoid the worst...

Since he had just discovered the mission was all a rouse.

xx

In the middle of the conversation Eric and co. were having, his cell phone rang and silenced Arturo, who had been speaking before the interruption. After checking who the caller was, Eric looked up, apologetic.

"I'll be back in just a second," he said. He saw Jill gaze up at Jenkins, whose eyes had narrowed and was staring side sideways at him. With one impassive look at Jenkins, Eric withdrew from the group. Such scrutinizing gazes, Jill's and Jenkins'. Eric knew he was in Chris' and Jill's black list; he'd sensed that from the very beginning.

But why did he have the feeling Jenkins had automatically added himself now?

When he was at a good distance, Eric picked up the phone and spoke quietly. The conversation didn't last long, and he only exchanged a few words with the caller. What would've been suspicious was the fact that he spoke in another language and, once he was finished, he allowed himself a crooked grin.

Everything was going according to plan.

After hanging up, he returned with the group, a more faint smile playing on his lips. He clapped his hands together, gazing at Richard with the countenance of an overly proud person.

"Who's called?" asked Arturo.

"It's been Mr. Graves and," replied Eric, "I have to agree with what he just said: we should hurry and get to PHL at once. Besides, the dealers have changed the time of the meeting."

"What time is it scheduled for now?" intervened Chris, unsettled. Had he had the chance, Eric would've just screamed everything at him but, for now, it was in his best interest to keep all to himself. Instead of doing what he was tempted to do, he checked his watch.

"Right now, it'd be 3:15pm in Naples and... they've changed it to 4pm local time there tomorrow. We still have time to get there; that is, if we don't waste it."

"They've made quite the change, haven't they?" interjected Arturo. "Guess they're in a hurry."

"Well, the sooner we catch them, the better. We didn't come here to waste time anyway," said Jill, crossing her arms. Arturo made as if he'd tipped his hat.

"Straight to the point, eh?" he commented with a simper. Jill shrugged her shoulders.

"You can't really joke when it comes down to this kind of situations. I can't see the reason behind the sudden change, but we'll find out," she told him, her brow creasing.

"We should get going then, right?" Richard piped up as he stood from his seat.

"Fair enough. You got the equipment, Jenkins?" Eric asked the British man, who nodded without a word. "Very well, take us to the place. Let's get this over with already. "

And so, they fell in line behind Jenkins, left the square and approached a line of cars where Eric had parked his. It was a small two-car convoy, and in one of those two cars Chris and Jill would go. Making sure he wasn't seen, Eric smirked again. He heard Richard speaking with the others about catching Ivanov and bringing down another of the main virus suppliers.

Catching Ivanov? Ha! Ivanov didn't exist, after all.

And everyone knew that.


	4. Chapter IV: Assumptions Confirmed

**Author's Note:** I can't believe this is getting so many alerts and favourites, my God! I have to thank you guys, from the bottom of my heart xD No really, it's amazing how much interest you're showing in this particular story, so I'm really grateful. About this chapter... we could say this is when the shit hits the fan, everything goes down the pan or whatever expression appeals to you the most: in any case, this is when the whole thing starts. I hope you enjoy reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let's see if it keeps you on the edge of the seat when you're finished.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs**

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IV

Assumptions Confirmed

_'Man is the least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.' __Oscar Wilde_

"You're really sure he'll do it? He's not the type of guy you can place your trust in."

"Aw, c'mon! As far as I know, Irving trusted him and, as such, we should too," he replied with a shrug. "We're all dealers and we've all met both Ivanov and Irving."

"We're 'businessmen with standards', as he would've said," said Maria with a smile. "Irving could've been a dirty bastard sometimes, but he was loyal to the business and to the principles. He was good, too good. To tell the truth, he was a diamond on top the pile of coal."

"He did have the knack for this thing, but we can also do it, Maria. Don't let your tongue slip out too much flattery."

"Easy, Grant. You might not be as respectful as we both are, but she's right. When someone's right, there's no point in arguing that." He sighed. "In any case, I've called Ivanov. He's agreed to the change and he's going to take care of those BSAA agents. He told me that once he was done, he'd come to meet us. It'll be tomorrow though; he'll need things to settle down before coming."

"That's good to know, Dave," Maria commented, pleased. Dave scoffed, showing how sarcastic he thought that remark of Maria's was. Folding his arms across his chest, Dave gazed at Grant as he narrowed his eyes.

Dave had to admit that whilst he did trust Ivanov, he didn't trust the man's plan. It was too risky from his point of view and if something went wrong, the Uroboros sample would be lost or confiscated, and they couldn't allow that, although the fear of losing the sample was much more intense than the one of the virus being confiscated. Thanks to Irving's constant supply of information, he knew mostly everything that was to be known about Uroboros, the virus created by Irving's last and most important employer, Albert Wesker. Both names gave Dave the creeps.

What was there to gain from smuggling the sample? Oh, too much money from Ivanov which Dave would receive from Ivanov's surrogate Sashko, that was for sure. Dave was an ambitious man and when he saw money on the table, he doubted whether he could stay away from the deal or the activity that involved it. Even so, he'd avoided deals that would've cost him his life, quite literally, such as being the decoy for Irving's plan in the KAZ, that region in Africa which went to Hell as soon as Irving had stepped foot on it.

He bit his lip, distrustful and anxious.

What would he do once he had Uroboros in his hands? Well, he could resell it at a higher price, gain benefits and become a very rich man, but that plan didn't work for him. Right now, Dave wasn't looking for independence; much to his surprise, he found himself desiring to work for someone. Many times, solo work wasn't as interesting as being employed and, of course, you didn't get any more than as if you were a normal worker earning a normal salary. Knowing Irving, the man had hundreds of contacts and employers, so why not look them up, try to find them? Even Marco Gionne could be interested!

_That would be unlikely. The man already has what he wants and what he needs, so why would I step into the course of his life? Oh well, couldn't hurt to try. I'll talk to him when this deal's over; maybe Maria would like to come over, too._

By some reason, Dave sensed nothing would go according to plan.

xx

"There's something I don't trust about this guy Olsen," Chris finally said once they were inside the car. It had taken him all his might not to voice his opinions out loud and, now that he and Jill were alone, they could start another conversation.

"It seems you were holding it back," Jill teased in spite of everything, "but you're right: Graves has done well, telling us about Olsen. When he picked up the call he'd received before, I don't know but... I think he's up to something. If it was Graves, just like he said, he would've stayed with us, wouldn't he? After all, this concerns all of us."

"I don't know, but I'm still trusting my instincts and not my logic, since I wouldn't like a certain situation to repeat itself," replied her partner as he engine rumbled to life. Suddenly, Chris frowned as he felt a bolt of surprise coursing through him. "Damn it, why didn't I realize before?"

"What is it?" asked Jill, her head turned towards him.

"Jill, I think you were in charge of that: remember the deals that Graves mentioned back at my place? The ones he said that had been carried out because the dealers knew the BSAA was behind them?"

"Yeah, what about them?"

"Did you manage to investigate the case?"

Jill pursed her lips before replying and, when she did, it felt like a cold bucket of water to Chris. "Yeah, but we didn't find any coherent leads. Someone had let the information leak, but we didn't get to know who allowed that."

"Damn it, just what we needed..." Chris sighed. "I'm trying to figure this out; there's something out of place and not just with Olsen. I think the whole group's involved, every single one of them."

"What do you feel that is? Not that I can't see it myself, but I want to know what you're thinking," Jill said, her tone soothing and resolute.

"Don't you think that Olsen could've saved all of this and instead could've called us to Naples directly? I mean, why go through all this trouble?" he mused, taking a left turn. In that same moment, Jill's cell phone rang seemingly louder than ever before. When she picked up and put it on speaker, the alarmed voice that came through was none other than Oliver Graves'.

"_Chris, Jill, I need you to listen carefully! This mission is a ruse!_"

"Say what?!" Jill exclaimed.

"_I just realized it myself! Remember the deals I mentioned back at the briefing? It's all related to Olsen: he was out on a 'mission' that same day! The deals took place the 2nd_ _of July in Dublin, day when Olsen was on a recon mission right in that same location! And it hasn't happened only once, but thrice! That's how all of the dealers avoided our teams!_ _I've also called Oscar there at the European branch and he hadn't even realized! Olsen just operated under their noses!_"

"Goddamn the guys at the European! For God's sake, how could he just give them the slip?!" Chris exclaimed, raising his voice more than he should've. "Look Graves, I need you to tell us-"

They had merely made it past Penn's Landing when everything went to Hell. The line got cut off and Chris and Jill only heard a stable, continued beep: something had happened to Graves.

The cars had just went past the first boat harbour and were almost under Ben Franklin Bridge when Olsen's car decreased its speed and pull over next to a pier. As both Chris and Jill didn't know what was happening, he was also forced to follow behind, and it was then when they found that a pair of black vans was blocking the way. They got out of the vehicle, approaching Olsen's, and they stopped dead in their tracks when they saw what was going on.

They were between the sword and the wall; they had fallen into Olsen's trap.

_He_ was the mole in the BSAA. Chris and Jill had been betrayed once again and there was no need to ask Olsen what was up, because they already knew. Olsen and Richard were holding them at gunpoint, horribly close to Delaware River's calm waters, and -goddamn- they had no weapons to defend themselves with.

_But wait a sec, where's Jenkins?_

Right after finishing the thought, Chris spotted the man also in the same situation as them, his life ready to be taken away if Richard pulled the trigger of the gun that was trained on Jenkins' temple.

"Olsen... Or should we say 'Vasily Ivanov'?" Chris snapped, his voice pitched low and menacing.

Olsen -now formally known as Ivanov- widened his smirk as a reply.

"Never in my life I've seen someone with such instincts."

"I don't think I'll take that as a compliment," Chris shot back, fighting the urge to kill them all, no matter the mission, no matter the orders, no matter the situation.

_Think rationally, you idiot. Your life's at stake... and so is Jill's._

"Heh, do as you like. And as you might be thinking right now, yes: I went through all the trouble of risking my life these last three weeks to get the BSAA fail at every mission they have taken on lately. In fact, I took those missions at those locations and I tipped the dealers. So now you know: there was something wrong with me, after all. Besides, I had been made quite the offer, and I simply couldn't refuse to cooperate with my friend Sashko, who's probably in Naples by now delivering the sample I was supposed to handle. Don't worry, after this the BSAA will vanish sooner than later."

"Then all of this was just a delay?! Holy fuck, Olsen, what the hell's going on here? You... you set us up?!" Jenkins breathed out in disbelief. Ivanov looked back at him and Jenkins' face was a mask of pure shock and horror.

"Well, there's been a slight change of plans, Miles," said Ivanov in a wicked tone. "You know too much, my friend. I think you're not part of the team anymore; in fact, there was no team, there never was." Miles Jenkins gasped, the last gesture he'd ever make.

"Wait, wait--!"

Jenkins' words were drowned by a loud bang of gunfire, and Chris' eyes widened as he and Jill witnessed Miles drop dead to the ground and, by the look on Ivanov's face, it hadn't even fazed him the slightest. Once again, it was just like Raccoon City.

History was meant to repeat itself, wasn't it? Over and over again.

"Ivanov, you bastard..." cursed Jill, and Ivanov shrugged with a light smile. When he spoke, his voice lost all British accent it had and acquired the one of his native land.

"Oh well, I was the bastardly rookie in the BSAA, wasn't I? I guess that's part of my nature, Miss Valentine. And yes, I'm Vasily Ivanov and soon I'll be rich, and you'll both be dead... or worse, if God wills it. After this is over, I'll go and tell Marco about this. I guess you can figure out the outcome now."

"Was Miles' death part of the plan?" Jill inquired, her tone cold.

"I'd like to say so, yes. There's no mission that ends without a casualty or an injured person, no matter what. Miles was also suspicious of me and I sensed it many times. Now he can prove to God that he was right." Ivanov smiled. "And now I have a special treat... Agent Redfield. You're going to like it."

Chris stiffened after hearing his name come out from the mouth of a liar. It was a familiar sensation, and very familiar indeed. He searched for a means of escape or defense, but there was nothing they could use to get out of that predicament. Of course, they could jump into the river as an initial measure, but what then? They would leave their fate to chance and it wasn't unlikely that they would end up dead after the endeavour, which as such would prove pointless. Despite that, it was still the only thing they could do.

It was then when he put two and two together. One of the agents that had been accompanying Ivanov was gone, and it was no other than Arturo Gil.

_Goddamn it, where is he?_

Suddenly, someone flung their arm around Chris' neck, immobilizing him, and before he could struggle to free himself, a cold object pierced his neck and an intense bolt of pain struck him, paralyzing his whole body as if he'd been fossilized. The pain grew worse, his whole being seared with it as he felt something entering his bloodstream, something that once inside made him cry out in agony and caused him to bend over, panting. Never in his life had he felt this way.

That someone pushed him and, with a loud splash he was barely able to hear, his body connected with what he thought was the water's surface and then he was sinking, the currents pulling him deeper and deeper every moment he didn't fight against them. Chris tried to move but not even his fingers would respond. That was it: he was done for.

Before forcefully welcoming unconsciousness, he heard a voice calling out for him, and then the darkest of chuckles.

_Can't resist the irony, can you now?_

As he exhaled, the world turned one level darker.

xx

"NO!"

Everything happened in a flash: one moment, Chris was still standing, and the other he was unconscious and falling into the water without nothing to stop his fall. Once he broke the surface, his body sank and didn't emerge.

"We're done with him."

"You bastard!" Jill exclaimed, struggling to get rid of her captor. As soon as she started moving, Richard pressed the blade of a knife against her neck, and Jill was forced to stop.

"_Mikhail, that's enough,_" Ivanov seethed, narrowing his eyes. Following another order in Russian, Richard -Mikhail- let her go, and she didn't hesitate: with two long strides and a deep breath she jumped, but it was then when she felt a pang of pain at her side. That wasn't important now, whatever it had been.

Jill plunged herself into the icy waters of the river and when she felt the water reach her ankle, she shivered as she soon dived. She was blind at first, the surge of bubbles and the itching in her eyes rendering her so, but then all became clear. After looking in all directions, scanning as far as she could, she found Chris' unconscious form a few feet under her, and she kicked with all the force she could muster to get to him as soon as she could. She reached for him; her hand barely touched his face before she could lay both hands on his neck and feel for a pulse.

There was none.

She panicked: he couldn't be dead!

_Okay, Jilly, first things first: get him to breathe!_

The next two minutes were crucial: if she took more than two minutes, Chris was as good as dead, and it would be for sure. Her lungs didn't beg for air as soon as she was expecting it, and her mind went quick with ideas: either bring him to the side of the river under the bridge and get him to breathe -and she would waste more than two minutes since Chris was too heavy to carry- or she could just do it now and save time.

Of course, she didn't doubt it.

In less than she'd imagined, Jill had gone up to the surface again, taken a long and deep breath and was underwater again, renewed energy coaxing her muscles into working again, and with success. Without wasting any more time, Jill swam closer and pressed her lips against Chris', breathing life into him as soon as their mouths touched. She tried twice, but no avail. On the third time though, he finally gulped and coughed, causing a wave of relief to overcome Jill. His brown hues peeked from under his lids and when he was about to try and speak, still not realizing where they were, Jill stopped him. She saw he was completely unable to focus his gaze on a certain spot and she patted his shoulder to try and stimulate him.

Jill slid his arm around her shoulders and kicked as hard as she could to emerge with the less strain possible.

She didn't think she'd be able to, since the weight of the clothes made things worse, but she still felt her legs move on their own accord, as if they were the ones repeating her to move them. Finally, after a small yet energy-consuming struggle, Jill broke the surface and both were able to breathe again. She took hearty gulps of air, easing the throbbing in her head and in her lungs, and she turned to Chris, whom she found doing the same as her. His gulps though were loud, long and the intakes were very sharp; it seemed as if he was hyperventilating.

"J...Jill..." was all he could manage to say.

"Hold on, I'll... I'll get you out of here," she told him as loud as she could, but Jill doubted Chris was listening to her. Swimming carrying Chris proved more difficult than she thought, but they still made it to the ramp under the bridge. Jill dragged her partner out of the icy water, shivers running her spine up and down, and she laid him on the floor, panting. Chris wouldn't stop convulsing, grunts and exclamations in pain tearing from his throat as he tried to fight whatever was coursing through his system. It was a fight Jill couldn't help with.

It was then when she was reminded of the intense pain on her side.

One bullet had riddled her flesh. The wound itched as hell and the pain was too strong, but that was the least of her concerns. Unfastening her belt, she wrapped it around her waist and made a makeshift tourniquet to avoid losing any more blood. Once finished, she looked back at Chris, whom she found unconscious again, but his breathing was stable now and his condition hadn't worsened any further... yet.

She laid back too and by the time she stole another glance at him, he had stopped breathing once again.

"C'mon, Chris, don't you die on me!"

Her attempts to make Chris breathe were in vain.

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_A/N: Aha! This is why I told you it'd all get worse: Chris is infected with something we don't know yet and unresponsive, Jill is wounded, the deal was successful and the mission was all a ruse. Don't worry, Ivanov and co. will get what they deserve in the next few chapters by a most familiar cooperator. In any case, if anyone wants a bit more of information about the whole thing with Ivanov and the BSAA, you just need to ask for it in a review and I'll contact you. I also tell you the same thing as the last chapter: any guesses, NOT in reviews, mmmhkay? xD_

_I also say this: the updates will be faster. You won't have to wait a whole week but four days at best. Next update is coming up on Saturday, so stay tuned!_


	5. Chapter V: Reason I: Temptation

**Author's Note:** Holy cow, didn't I get complaints about the cliffhanger in the last chapter! xD Well, you'd better get used to them; this story has a real lot of 'em. I'm particularly happy of how this is coming out: I have 71 pages for 14 chapters, so you can guess it's a long one. The chapters will get longer as we go on, so expect long reads. In this chapter, I have to say this, we step what I would like to call the "Realm of the Psychological", and I'll tell you why.

The story is coming out long because this, being a love triangle and such, requires a lot of psychological development. As such, many of the upcoming chapters have many paragraphs of only thoughts of the character, and we will see a lot coming from Jill. Psychological -drama, perhaps?- is what will be predominating from here on out. (Some of these notes will be long due to aspects of the story I will have to explain before flames or complaints come xDD)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs**

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V

Reason I: Temptation

_'I may be crazy but it keeps me from going insane.' __Waylon Jennings_

Five hours.

Five hours since Jill and Chris had returned from Philadelphia, five hours since she had saved his life, five hours since she had almost died in the attempt after the loss of blood, five hours since the _betrayal_.

Jill stared at the dark tiles of the floor, hands clenched into fists and resting on her knees. She was sitting at the hall, her back completely straightened and muscles already accustomed to the position; she hadn't shifted in all that time, not a single inch. She couldn't: she feared that the same moment she moved, a paramedic would step out of the ICU and bring horrible news to her. The only thing the doctors had told her through Oliver Graves had been that Chris had been injected with something... and it wasn't a sedative, alright. Jill feared it was something even worse; why else would Chris be in the ICU in the first place?

Five hours and five minutes.

Five hours and five minutes since everything had happened. Jill always hated being in silence; she always had to had something in the background, even the faintest of noises. But now, the hospital wing was devoid of life, quiet as a cemetery. Soon, the noise she heard was the loud hammering of her heart in her ears as the tension spiked and got the best of her: she felt almost compelled to burst inside the Unit and have a look at her partner, but that'd be foolish.

_Besides, I never lose my temper. But now it's different... it's Chris we're talking about and... Please God or whoever's listening to me... I need you to help him, I beg you._

Five hours and ten minutes.

_Goddamn it, five hours already! Don't they have any-_

Before she could finish the thought, Oliver Graves stepped outside the ICU and Jill stood up ipso facto. Everything seemed to unfold with deliberate slowness. Graves approached Jill, his dark and intense eyes gleaming with something that Jill could only identify as impassiveness and rage. She stayed silent, waiting for him to rely any kind of news he had. When Graves spoke, his words came out low and crestfallen.

"He doesn't respond. What's strange is that his body is still alive in a way but no matter what the paramedics do, his heart doesn't beat. I can't-"

Graves suddenly interrupted himself when the sound of the door opening was noticeable. Out of the ICU stepped one of the paramedics and by the look on his old features, Jill found no consolation in Graves' words about Chris' body still being alive. That meant nothing: if he wasn't conscious, if there were no signs of coma, then he was-

"We tried everything, but it's all been in vain," he declared, solemn. "I'm sorry, but we've lost him."

"God, no!!" Graves shouted, taking both hands to his head and turning around. Jill didn't respond: she released no gasps, no exclamations, no words, nothing. She lost all awareness, as if her mind had been disconnected, and she sensed nothing. She remained standing, her consciousness screaming, her heartbeat accelerating and her soul shattering.

She couldn't believe it. Chris, dead? The man who always seemed so very strong and motivated, dedicated and cheerful... dead? Her partner, her friend, the man she _loved_, dead? No, it wasn't a joke, no matter how much she tried to laugh at it. It was inevitable: sooner or later, the time had to come. But_why_? Why did it have to come so very soon, so very unexpectedly?

"Are you sure? Have you tried absolutely _everything_?!"

Jill came to her senses, but she could only see and feel; her ears still blocked all outside noise, not caring how low or loud it was.

That was when she felt tears running down her face. Jill Valentine was a strong woman, but now she felt fragile, as if made of the most delicate of glasses.

_Now now, Jill, there's no need to cry..._

No... not that voice again, not _his_ voice again, not that horribly deep and cruel voice of his that would keep ringing in her ears until Judgement Day. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to cover her ears and prevent his voice from reaching them.

"_I'm not crying. I can't do it anymore."_

_On the contrary, dear, you _can_. I've seen you cry many times and no matter how much you repeated you had no more tears to shed, you still did. You may still remember the times when consolation was pointless, if not impossible, to provide._

But, as she soon came to realize, it was all in her mind.

"_Shut up... shut up... that's enough..."_

And now, she felt him breathing against her skin, gesture which sent painful shivers down her spine; she felt him sliding his fingers up and down her neck, which caused her to asphyxiate; she felt him so very close, which made her heart shrink with pain. Jill made no attempt to move away; she knew he was delighting in the torture even in the afterlife, and she certainly wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing her shaken.

But that attempt was in vain.

Realizing the deadly coldness of his touch, _his_ coldness, she jerked away, sudden horror coursing through her system and telling her only one thing: to run, to escape him.

Then, that smirk.

Would he kill her now?

Jill's eyes widened almost beyond their limit and in spite of coaxing her body into moving, it didn't. She remained frozen in the spot, looking into his inhuman golden gaze.

Was that the sign?

No, it wasn't. It was what Jill needed to face him. Ironic: the thing she feared the most was what gave her the strength to stand up again and hold his gaze, firm.

"I don't fear you. No matter how much you try, you're not going to make me collapse, you're not going to take everything away from me," she declared, gradually becoming enraged. "I'm strong, I'm a new person, and I'm not afraid of you, you hear me?!!" She bellowed with as much strength as she could muster.

But Wesker's smirk never faltered; instead, the smirk widened into a grin.

Was that the sign?

Jill didn't know. What she did know was that Wesker was right behind her, and his mouth close to her ear.

_Oh, but you _are. _You still are afraid, and that's not going to change._

_You're still afraid._

Returning to reality, Jill shook her head, turned around and walked away from Graves and the paramedic, increasing her speed each second that went by. By the time she wanted to notice, she was running at full pelt down the hall, eagerly desiring to get out of that place. Also, by the moment she wanted to realize, a hand had closed itself around her wrist, its grip tight and iron-like. She stopped in her tracks, not looking back; she didn't need to.

"Let me go."

_But _you _are the one holding me. What are you doing?_

Bewildered, Jill swivelled around and was face to face with Wesker again. Seconds later her gaze drifted to her hand and she found that his words were true: it was _her _hand the one which was clasping his wrist, and not vice versa. The meaning of it fell upon Jill like the heaviest of rocks.

She was still holding on to his memory.

"Why can't I let go? Why can't _you_ let go of me, dammit?!" she exclaimed, not caring about the tone of her voice. "Why can't you disappear?!"

_Is it hate you really feel?_

xx

Jill's eyes snapped open and a familiar itch nagged them. She saw the world in a very strange way, like shaky and swimming before her eyes, like-

Oh, right... She remembered why, and the throbbing in her temples also reminded her of what was happening.

She had been lying underwater for a minute and a half or so... she couldn't remember. What she remembered was herself getting everything prepared: she had filled the tub right to the very edge, stepped inside and lowered herself down to the bottom. She had remained there for only God knew how long, unmoving. No, it wasn't a suicide attempt.

Then what was it?

As she let out a small puff of air from her mouth, Jill answered that question herself.

There had been no way to convince her of the reason behind Chris' death. No, it hadn't been her fault, but _yes_, it had been her fault. If she had seen that Gil bastard coming up from behind him, nothing would've happened, she wouldn't be there and Chris would still be alive.

But had there been a way to see it?

No, there hadn't, and that's what bugged her the most. Jill closed her eyes, her whole body relaxing as the sorrow caused weariness.

_I should've figured it out sooner._

_'Aw, c'mon, Jill, don't blame yourself!'_

She opened her gaze, only to find herself floating in complete darkness. Horror's cold hand clutched her heart for what it seemed the first time in ages, and then she heard a light chuckle. She glanced to her right, and she found _him_: Chris.

_'Chris?'_

"_The one and only,"_ he replied with a smile, but then he erased it from his features. _"What the hell are you doing, Valentine?"_

_'I don't even know myself.'_

"_Don't be an idiot: get yourself out of there. What are you trying to accomplish?"_ he asked her, his tone cold.

_'I can't forget about it. It's my fault that you're dead. I've followed my instincts and I fell into temptation: I'm trying to feel what you felt; it's just-'_

"_I never thought you'd be so foolish: you know it wasn't your fault. I wouldn't want you to go through this, you know that. Come on, think straight."_

_'What if I told you I can't, Chris?!'_

"_Then I'd say you need help. You're a strong woman, Valentine, you can keep on going. I don't want you to do what you're doing," _Chris said, and the encouragement in his tone did no good to Jill's aching heart.

_'I'm not strong, and I don't need help.'_

Then, Jill saw something she'd never thought she'd see. Chris scowled at her, narrowed his eyes and took a very deep breath. His gaze seemed to be boring a hole right through her skull, and Jill could feel his anger as if it was her own.

"_If you don't need help as you say, then why the hell are you lying underwater, in a tub and almost about to run out of oxygen?"_ he seethed, and his words made Jill come to the realization: he was right.

It all felt like a slap to the face and she indeed sensed the pain in her chest and head. Jill tried to move, but her body wouldn't respond: it was as if she were chained and her restraints weren't going to budge any time soon.

_'Chris!!'_

"_You've got three seconds, Valentine. Three more seconds to decide what to do: or either you let this go and you get out with your life, or you stay trapped by the grief and the guilt and you die; it's your call now. I learnt to do that when you 'died', and it helped because I didn't give up. It's your turn to decide. I'm going to keep the count: you'd better hurry."_

_Three..._

Chris' image disappeared. Jill returned to the real world and was welcomed by everything returning implied. The pain in her lungs was unbearable, her head was threatening to explode and sooner or later she'd lose consciousness and die.

_Two..._

_One..._

Jill didn't think it twice. With all the energy she could muster, she pushed her body out of the water, almost desperate. Once her head had broken through the surface, Jill took hearty and loud gulps of air which made her regain what she had lost: sanity and rationality. As fast as she could, she climbed out of the tub and backed away from it, staring at the cool liquid with dread coursing through her system.

_What have I just tried to do?!_

Still panting, she felt fresh tears at her eyes and didn't hesitate to shed them, crying as quietly as she could.

"_I didn't expect less coming from you, Jill. See? You were able to make it."_

"Just... Goddamn it, you can't expect me to carry on as if nothing had happened!" Jill cried out, careless. "Chris, I... I can't do it."

She heard Chris chuckle and she shook her head as hastily as possible, trying to shake all of her thoughts away. It was all in her mind: why was she talking to him? Why was she hearing his voice, for that matter?

"_I told myself the same three years ago, and look what happened then. Keep going, Valentine; it's not your time yet."_

"It wasn't yours either," she retorted through gritted , another voice replaced Chris', and Jill's head perked up to glance at where it had come from. She stared into the mirror above the sink and found him standing behind her: Wesker.

"Aren't you just going to stop?!" Jill bellowed without looking back to see if it was really true.

"_How foolish of you, Jill. I expected a bit more strength."_

"Shut up!" she exclaimed, enraged. "It's all your fault this happened in the first place!"

"_Do you understand what it means to be weak?"_

"That's enough!!" With that last scream, Jill smashed her fist into the mirror, shattering to dozens of sharp shards. When she wanted to realize what she had done, her hand was bleeding profusely, the pain excruciating. But Jill didn't care, only stared at her crimson-stained hand. "I'm not weak..." she muttered, wiping her tears away, "because if I was, I wouldn't be here. Of course, I know he didn't refer to physical weakness..."

_But that of the heart's._

Jill lifted her head and looked at the remaining pieces of the mirror that were still hanging on the wall. Her reflection was broken and twisted, so was her soul.

"_Of course, now I see that you understand."_

"You're a figment of my imagination; you're _dead_, Wesker. You're nothing more than a memory."

"_That may be... I am dead, yes, physically at least, but you know I'll always be inside that little mind of yours. And I guarantee this: unless you do something about it... Trust me, the outcome it will be quite unpleasant."_

Serene, Jill proceeded to heal her injured hand. For some reason, she hesitated at first and remained staring at her blood. For God's sake, was she going crazy? She didn't know, and she didn't care. For now, she clung to what little rationality she still had.

She knew that, if she didn't, insanity would soon ensue.

xx

_With nothing else than mere willpower, he managed to pull his body out of the scorching liquid, feeling as painful, devilish tongues were licking his skin and causing more patches of flesh to fall off, even more than the ones he'd already lost. Cold blood was the only thing that coated the remains of his body, blood so cold that he didn't even know whether to describe the lava as searing or not._

_He remained breathing loudly, obtaining as much oxygen as he could, as he got the unmistakeable sensation of tears stinging at his searing eyes. A sane person would've preserved their energy to keep conscious; he didn't. For the first time in his entire life, he cried silent tears of anger and despair, his mind telling him off because of that._

_He tried to move his right arm. It didn't respond nor he felt it still attached to his shoulder. He felt nothing aside from the tears and the pain in his maimed chest, nothing aside from the sudden burst of adrenaline that drove him to lift himself up on his left arm and move his leg in an attempt to stand up. It only made blood rise up in his throat, blood he was forced to cough and spit. He couldn't surrender, he couldn't give up!_

_Still, in mere moments, out of weariness and grief, he collapsed and drifted into unconsciousness._

Once he realized where he was, he swore he would've never thought that coming back from unconsciousness was _this_ painful.

It had all been slow, very slow. When he had come to his senses, every sensation that he'd felt came back to assail him and all the images that his mind had stored came back to torture him. Every single one flashed by and blinded him even more than he already was, and each one triggered an involuntary convulsion. It was then when his sense of hearing became much more keener and a loud wave of muffled voices struck his ears; it felt as if the world had turned a thousands decibels louder, all accompanied by a deafening whistling. His first reflex had been to shield his ears from those horrible noises, unable to stifle a yell which only made things worse.

Then, it had been his body. When he had moved his arms just a mere inch, everything turned as hot as the deepest pit of Hell. He felt as if he were being licked by the eternal flames, consuming his body and degrading it to insignificant ashes to scatter them into the wind. But that slow, excruciating death didn't come; instead, life came.

He felt _alive_.

Indeed, it took him long to realize that he wasn't dying but living again, and he opened his eyes, hesitant. The world in front of him came with a soft burst of light, if not painless. In fact, he didn't feel his body, only his mind and his thoughts, all disordered and bizarre. He heard his own breathing, weak and irregular and laboured; he felt his chest rising and falling with each breath he took, and it all became a bit clearer.

Coldness spread across his face; at least, that's where he thought he'd felt it. He was disoriented, confused, and he still couldn't bring himself to think straight.

"...with us?"

He couldn't discern the entire sentence nor its meaning but he knew he was amongst people and he was being watched. He swallowed, the process painful and difficult, attempted to speak. No words came, not even the feeling of air ascending to his throat, which he suddenly described as parched and sore. He swallowed once more, only to be rewarded with _more_ pain. He remained breathing, unresponsive.

"...shows...reac... to light... yet..."

It took him a bit of time to piece the parts of the sentence together: no reaction to light yet. But why would they be examining that?

And it soon hit him: who was 'they'?

And who was he? What about his name? Something told him he knew, that he had a name, but still was impossible to remember.

"Who... who am I...?"

The question came along with a sigh, his voice weak because of the lack of strength he so desperately craved to have. It even hurt to speak, the pain making him cough and cringe as he regained mobility in his limbs.

"...ker?"

He knew, he remembered: who he was, what he had done, how he was, who he had met, how he had _died_. Died? Yes, he had died and in a very painful way, not to mention humiliating. Who and what he was were the first thoughts that crossed his mind.

His name was Albert Wesker, and he was a-

What? What was he? How could he had been so sure of that answer when he now couldn't formulate it, couldn't bring himself to accept it?

He soon found himself with no energies to think, not even to keep on breathing, and the man known as Albert Wesker immediately sank into unconsciousness as the stable, earpiercing whistling kept ringing.

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_A/N: And here's the part I guess everyone's been waiting for. Yes, Wesker _is_ alive and kicking; don't worry, it'll all be explained later on, no matter how confuse it may seem. In fact, I've written a whole chapter just providing answers, nothing else, so don't fret. I'll tell you something important in the next chapter, something you will all need to have in mind, alright?_

_Till the next update, coming up on Tuesday! Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	6. Chapter VI: Reason II: Resent

**Author's Note:** Yups, early updates, lucky you guys! xD There's a reason behind this, and that reason is a three-day long trip. Tomorrow I'm leaving really early for Madrid and, unless I can use my dad's laptop to write a bit or to actually be on MSN (for those who have me on MSN), I won't be able to get in contact with you. And although I'm not replying to reviews (I will, trust me), I have to thank everyone for the support. 31 reviews in just 5 chapters? My God, that's unexpected and really appreciated. Now, enjoy this one! We are nearing the moment you are all waiting for!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs**

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VI

Reason II: Resent

_'Everyone is more or less mad on one point.' __Rudyard Kipling._

**July 24th, 2009**

**Granada, Spain**

Jill Valentine had never felt such resent towards someone, not even towards Wesker. Nah, that was an exaggeration but still, that hate and loathing Jill felt towards Vasily Ivanov was on par with the one towards Wesker. She had sworn to herself that she would find Ivanov and kill him, and she'd be the happiest person on the planet. She would do whatever it took to put a bullet through Ivanov's brow; she'd do it, no matter the cost.

Jill's mind thought back a few days ago, exactly three. In those three days she'd done the impossible: friend after friend, she'd told them of Chris' death: Barry, Rebecca, Leon, Carlos...

Claire.

Telling Claire had been the worst part of the whole thing. By the tone of Claire's voice when she had picked up the phone, Jill could've told that she was having a fun day with Leon and, even though she didn't want to ruin the fun, Jill had to pluck out courage not to tell her, but to be able to stand Claire's reaction and avoid her own tears.

XX

_It was time to deliver the news to Claire. _

_At first, Jill had hesitated. Her modesty got a bit in the way, but there was no point in delaying the inevitable: sooner or later, she'd have to tell her. There was nothing she could do to avoid spilling the beans. With resolve, she held up the phone, dialled Claire's number and waited for her to pick up the call. Seconds after, a familiar voice came through._

"_Claire Redfield speaking!" _

_Jill would've liked to smile and chuckle at the mirth in Claire's voice -even wonder what she had been up to, but she was unable to this time. Now, it was all about impassiveness and strength, all which Jill had lacked and currently possessed. She was able to open her mouth to speak, even though her lips wouldn't part, and rely the terrible news to the young Redfield._

"_Claire, it's Jill," she said. "Listen, I have bad news." Jill could imagine Claire frowning on the other side of the line and she took her silence as a 'go on'. And so she did._

"_Chris is dead."_

_She heard Claire draw a sharp breath in despair and horror and when she spoke, her voice was quivering. "Don't you-"_

"_Lie to you, Claire?" Jill interrupted, her tone harsh, "I've been trying to tell myself that these last days and I can tell you that it's not a lie. He's dead. I tried to save him but I couldn't, I couldn't bring him back to you."_

"_He... no..." Claire couldn't bring herself to speak and Jill closed her eyes, relieved that no lump had formed in her own throat. Between sobs that would've normally broken Jill's heart, Claire asked, "How... how did it happen?" _

_Jill heaved out a sigh. "Think back a few years in Raccoon City and you'll see the similarities. We were betrayed again, Claire, just like Wesker betrayed us. The doctors that treated your brother told Graves and me that he'd been injected with something but they couldn't identify it, something that was keeping his body alive."_

"_But... he wasn't conscious... was he?" Claire was clearly struggling to speak without faltering, but Jill wasn't affected by that. She'd sworn to herself that she wouldn't cry again; she would have time after she obtained her revenge. _

"_No, he wasn't. I'm sorry but he's as good as dead; at least, Chris is to me. I'm sorry, Claire, I really am." When Jill finished talking, Claire burst into silent tears, and Jill only listened to her crying, unmoving and not at all fazed. _

"_Claire?" Jill called then, her voice hard and blunt._

"_What?" the Redfield sobbed, her tone harsh. Jill clenched her fist so hard that her knuckles went white. Even though Claire's tears hadn't brought more of them to Jill's eyes, she was mourning Chris as much as his sister was. _

"_I swear that Chris will have not died for nothing. I'm going to catch the bastard that betrayed us... and so help me, I _will _kill him. I'll call you again in two days. I promise the call will be pleasant."_

_With no farewell to bid, both women hung up. Jill stared at the phone, her mind on Claire. She didn't deserve to lose what little family she had, his friends didn't deserve to lose such a precious person, nobody deserved what had happened. She tried to understand Claire's pain but she had felt her share. Jill Valentine had made her decision._

_Revenge is a dish best served cold and now, she was going to get it._

_There was only silence, with tension hanging in it. Jill had been waiting for what it seemed hours outside the room where her superior, Graves, had entered a few minutes ago. Had it really been minutes though? Jill couldn't tell; she had lost track of time since the moment the silence had reigned in the hall. Suddenly, as if she'd just begged for it, Graves opened the door and stepped out._

"_We know where he is, Valentine," he said, his deep voice snapping Jill out of her thoughts. Despite that, she knew very well what he'd just said: they knew where Ivanov was. She glanced up at him, only to be welcomed by his intense eyes and his sombre expression. _

"_Where?" _

"_He's in..."_

XX

Spain. Right where Jill was now.

Most concretely, she was on the rooftop of Hotel Victoria with a M24 Sniper Rifle fully mounted and loaded resting by her side. It was almost midnight and the plaza in front of the hotel, Puerta Real -which was one of the most popular meeting places for young people- was surprisingly lacking the usual crowd of people, even though it was Friday. Nevertheless, it was a factor that played in her favour.

Graves had told her where Ivanov would be meeting next: in that same place, Puerta Real. Jill had accepted the mission in a heartbeat, yet it wasn't a mission in itself. It was a question of duty and honour, because the American and the European BSAA -and by extension, the whole Alliance- had stooped too low. They had allowed a spy to infiltrate their ranks and manipulate information just because of one thing: money. Possibly that wasn't the reason, but Jill Valentine and Oliver Graves hadn't listened to what the higher-ups had to say.

It all made sense now. They had pieced two and two together in less than a second: Marco Gionne, Tricell, the BSAA and Ivanov; what else was there to know? The BSAA had allowed Tricell to resurface for some reason -even though the most important one was clear.

Graves had been the most affected by the situation. He, being one of the Original Eleven -even though Jill was, too-, had never seen something like that coming. He had been the one always in charge of import/export operations and business transactions, and never in his six years of operating with the BSAA had he seen a record out of place. It was only half a day ago that, browsing through the BSAA's database, Graves had found the large sums of money the BSAA had accepted and granted to others.

There was no-one you could trust.

Upon knowing this, Jill had contacted Josh and Sheva in Africa and told them about the dire situation the Alliance was in. The matter to which Jill had given the more importance had been Chris' death, something which made Sheva curse in Swahili and question Jill in utter disbelief. Why would Jill be lying though? It wasn't a sick joke, like Sheva had first described the news as, but then there was no room for distrust. It was true.

XX

"_I'm sorry for your loss, Jill," Sheva said, her voice having quivered a bit. _

"_It's _our _loss, Sheva, not only mine. You also had him as a partner, so there's no reason to say my loss," Jill replied, serene. "Even though they say revenge leads nowhere, I can swear to you I'll find the person responsible and finish him off. Trust me; I made this vow to Chris' sister, Claire, and I make it to you: he won't get away with this."_

"_Just be careful; we can't lose you either."_

"_Thanks for the support," Jill spoke with a faint but genuine smile. "You be careful too; remember what I've told you about the Alliance, lest something similar happens around there. Watch your backs, I'll contact with you as soon as I can."_

XX

Now there was no reason to think of the Alliance's branches as a whole entity, since the North American and European branches had signed their statute of autonomy right from the very beginning.

The case wasn't and wouldn't be taken to the Consortium since it would be utterly pointless. Tricell was one of the many identities that were part of it and all accusations would be proven false, making the situation worse than it already was. As such, Jill and Graves decided to keep the matter a secret between them and Africa. Through the African branch, they would warn the others... just in case.

Better to be alone that in bad company, right?

"_Alpha, Epsilon here. What's the situation?_" came Graves' voice over the headset. Jill decided it was the best time to slip on her sniping fingerless gloves: if Graves was speaking, then the mission would start soon.

"Epsilon, this is Alpha. All clear, no sighting of the target yet. Is everything ready?"

"_Locked and loaded, Alpha. Remember, your job is to injure the target; we'll take it from there. We don't want a commotion._"

"Understood, Epsilon," nodded Jill, getting the rifle ready. It was in that moment when she spotted her target, Vasily Ivanov, standing against the glass wall of a bank. "Epsilon, I have visual," she spoke into the microphone. She took the protection off the sight and took aim.

"_Got you, Alpha. Don't leave your position, fire on my mark._"

_Oh, I sure won't... not before I put a bullet through his skull instead of his leg! Damn it, I'm losing my focus again. _

Three seconds.

Five.

Ivanov was moving, leaving his position. Would he really be leaving? Would they fail?

Seven.

He was getting much closer to the groups of people that were there; Jill would lose sight of him, she'd lose her chance of shooting. But Graves hadn't said nothing yet and if he hadn't, it was because it was not yet time to pull the trigger.

Ivanov was going to leave!

Ten seconds.

"_Fire!_"

It was the first time Jill reacted so quickly; not even if she'd had her dose of P30 she would've been able to repeat the movement. She moved her finger to the trigger, ready to fire, her heart hammering in her ears-

-and she heard a loud gunshot, the screams of the little crowd under her, Graves' voice shouting at her through the headset, all in a rapid and bizarre succession which left her confused.

"_What the hell?! That wasn't you, right?"_

Jill was as surprised as Graves was and she withdrew her face to look more clearly at the plaza below. Under the lights of the lampposts, she could indeed see that Ivanov had fallen to the ground, unmoving, most certainly dead. But it didn't make any sense: who had shot him? Had someone else been looking for him?

She looked around in all directions, taking cover in case whoever had been looking for Ivanov was now looking for _her_. Jill examined every rooftop around, finding no-one or nothing... until her gaze stumbled across the rooftop next to her. She widened her eyes, her heart racing in her chest, and she gasped.

"_Jill, Jill, what's wrong?!_" Graves was asking.

But Jill wasn't listening. Even if the lights on the rooftops were faint, she could perfectly discern who she was looking at.

And never in her life had she felt so afraid.

"_Jill, goddamn it, answer me!_"

"It's... it's him... it's him, Oliver..."

"_Who's 'him'?_"

Jill couldn't reply. The words died in her throat and she felt like hyperventilating, unable to calm down. The more she told herself to look away, the less she couldn't: her gaze was fixed upon that person. It was impossible, impossible, impossible...

_It's not fair! Does this mean Chris died for nothing?!_

"_I want to hear you scream it with all the despair and rage you can muster... SAY IT!"_

A scream threatened to leave her throat, threatened to reveal her position, but Jill clamped a hand over her mouth, preventing herself from letting it out. Fresh tears formed at her eyes and let them fall, rolling down her cheeks.

And then, he noticed her.

_Oh God, oh God, oh GOD!_

Jill felt her fear reach inconceivable and inhuman levels. His gaze turned towards her, meeting her own blue hues, and then it all seemed to go silent, as if someone had pushed the 'Mute' button on a stereo.

Then it was all him and her, nothing else: no sound, no light.

But he said nothing.

Not at least loud.

A cold gust of wind against her face, the brush of something cold against her cheek, the cold hands of fear clutching her heart, and Jill was left with only that: terror. Before she wanted to realize, he was gone, and Jill was brought back to the real world again. She was left gulping for air as if she were a fish out of the water, her head throbbed painfully and her body was numb.

"_Who's 'him'?_" Graves asked.

Dèja vu?

Jill was starting to feel queasy, her throat was parched and she couldn't breathe properly. She tried to speak, but nothing came.

"I..."

"_SAY IT!"_

Jill whimpered and gripped her head with both hands, painful images flashing through her mind in a rapid succession. They were hazy, triggering a cacophony, and she exclaimed in agony and shock.

"_SAY IT!"_

It was time to face it, to end the pain and to stop the memories from coming. No, he wouldn't torture her, not again, not now, not _ever_. Jill put a stop to her racing thoughts.

_THAT'S ENOUGH!!_

Graves couldn't believe what he was seeing. First, the assignment was going well: everything was prepared, both he and Jill were all set, Ivanov was in sight and ready to be finished off. It had all come out as they had planned and there had been no inconveniences that had put a damper to the operation.

Then, Ivanov was dead, he had been left disconcerted and Jill had just started hyperventilating and exclaiming in pain. By the tone of her voice, she sounded as if she'd seen a ghost or even worse and no matter how much Graves tried to coax her into talking, she couldn't: she was completely unable. Her stammers had made a mix of emotions to flare up and Graves had left his position to try and have a clear sight of Jill's.

Now, he was staring in horror at the sight, the mission had gone to Hell itself, and Jill was literally _falling_ from the roof of the hotel. Graves broke into a sprint towards her, knowing that he wouldn't be able to reach her in time; still, he had to try. He ignored the cars that were going by and the one that screeched to a stop and honked at him, almost running him over.

_Goddamn it, what could go worse now?!_

Oh, how he suddenly wished he hadn't said that.

In moments, he watched how a person emerged from the shadows of the roof, jumped and caught Jill's unconscious form in mid-air.

_Wait, wait, JUMP?! Who the hell can jump so freakin' high?!_

Much to his despair, Graves couldn't see where the person had landed and, once he got close enough to see the other side of the road, he saw the place where she should've been was empty.

Jill Valentine was gone.

XX

_When Jill woke up, she swore she hadn't felt worse in her whole life. _

_She shifted uncomfortably, relieving her muscles from the strain, and she blinked a few times before getting fully accustomed the sight around her. Pain seared through her whole body and she couldn't avoid an exclamation when she heard her ribs crack, and loudly. What had happened? _

_Tackling Wesker out of a window, falling down a cliff, then excruciating pain and the feeling of freezing water enveloping her body. She didn't remember anything else, only that, which was more than enough to make her wonder something._

_Shouldn't she be-?_

"_It's good to see you're awake, Miss Valentine."_

_Even though the voice gave her the chills and made a killer instinct kick in, she couldn't move as fast as she would've wanted to. Instead, Jill turned her head with a slow movement, getting used to feeling her body again, and the first thing she did was gasp and stare at Wesker, who in spite of his words had a menacing scowl on his face. _

"_And no, you're not dead," he continued as if nothing, "thanks to me, that is; you would've been if it hadn't been for my... resistance to long falls. I'm quite resilient, as you can see." _

"_What do you want from me now?" Jill asked, her voice surprisingly strong. "Haven't you had enough?"_

_Wesker shook his head, calm. "If you want me to be honest, I haven't, certainly. Besides, you will play a very important role in my future plans."_

_Ignoring the pain, Jill sat up and, after registering she was lying upon an examination table, swung her legs over the table's side and stood up, her knees trembling under her weight. She scowled at him, her jaw tightening, and she watching him stand up, his gaze still fixed on her. _

"_Screw you! I'm not part of any plan!" she screamed at him, enraged. The sudden surge of rage and adrenaline numbed her body of all kinds of pain and she was left only with courage... pointless courage as she soon found out._

"_On the contrary, you are."_

"_I'm not afraid of you. I can- Ugh!" _

_The pain came back as soon as it had left, and Jill was forced to lower herself to her knees. It was then when she heard Wesker's steps approaching her at a quick pace and that was all she needed to stand up again, ignore the goddamned pain and break into a run to get away from him. The question was: where would she run?_

"_Still fight?" He chuckled. "Don't make me laugh; look at your condition. You don't expect to run and get away, do you? Where would you go, if that were the case?"_

_Jill tried not to listen, but he was dead right. Where would she go? She was as blind as a bat in broad daylight, unable to discern where she was going. She only cared about getting away, as far as humanly possible. Her legs couldn't hold her standing much longer, and she fell down with a thud and a grunt. _

No, please...

_Then, a hard boot stepped on her back and pressed with unimaginable force, which made a cry escape from Jill's chapped lips. It was the most intense pain she'd ever felt; of course, she'd just been saved from almost a hundred-feet fall or even more, and thank God she hadn't died. _

_Wait, did 'thank God' involve thanking Wesker? _No way in Hell!

"_Your attempts are futile, and you know that very well." _

_Ipso facto, Wesker crouched, turned her around and his hand closed around Jill's neck, so strong he threatened to crush her windpipe, triggering a painful exclamation from her. Jill struggled to free herself from his grasp but the more she did, the more Wesker pressed and the more remarks she got from him. _

"_You bastard, let me go!" she exclaimed, her voice hoarse. Wesker didn't ease his grip on her, but what was surprising was that he then wasn't strangling her in the least, just keeping her against the floor to make sure she couldn't escape._

"_That's not the proper way to say it, Miss Valentine," he chastised, sarcastic, with a smirk. "Besides, it surprises me that I don't get any 'thanks' from you; you were always very polite."_

"_Go to hell!" she shouted back, still fighting against his iron grip. _

"_I'm not in the mood to go back, to be sincere; besides, we're already in hell, both you and me," Wesker replied, seemingly finding some amusement in Jill's dire situation. "It's time you experienced what it _really _means to be there, and then you'll know why do I so desperately want to kill you and Chris. But for now, you'll do just fine... oh yes, you will."_

_Jill felt a shiver bolt down her spine and she knew she was trembling. She couldn't keep the tears from leaving her eyes, and that is when she could do nothing but cry and wait for whatever fate was about to befall her. Why was she accepting a fate she could fight against? Why was she surrendering? This was Wesker she was facing; she had to be strong! _

"_Aw... there's no need to shed those tears," he told her, his voice soft, clicking his tongue in mock-compassion._

_"Please, just... d-don't..." She remained staring at him, unable to swallow the lump in her throat, her eyes wide and filled with tears. It was the first time Jill had been truly afraid for her life, since she knew Wesker could take it away in a mere blink of an eye. Judging by how his lips curved into a crooked smirk, Jill knew she could start praying right that instant._

"_Will I make this end, you mean?" he asked, very possibly having read the question that was going through Jill's mind, reflected on her eyes. He brushed a few locks from her sweaty forehead, a gesture which would've made Jill _scream _if it wasn't because of her dry throat. "Oh but Jill, dear, we're just getting started!" _

"_NO!"_

XX

"...she...doing... fine?"

"...course... more persistent... you imagine..."

Jill came to herself, the only senses that at first worked being her hearing and sense of smell. Sight she discarded, since she found it impossible to open her eyes; touch, she discarded it too, since it happened the same as with sight and taste, there was no need to use it yet. The voices she had heard were faint and they echoed in her ears, which made it much more difficult to find out whose voices they were.

"Let's go... before...too late...ker."

If she had been fully functional and in a good condition, she would've known who they had mentioned. Still, that last syllable would be burned into her mind and she'd be unable to forget about it.

Darkness came again.

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_A/N: Making any guesses already (which you are forbidden to leave in a review? xDD)? Yeah, you'd better, because everything will be revealed in the next chapters. Let me say something: the development might seem a bit slow, but that's how I want to take it. As I said in the previous chapter's author's note, it takes its time to write about all this. Don't worry though, I'm already writing chapter 14 and I can tell you... things are starting to get serious: I'm getting to the core of this plot. Stay tuned, next update comes on Saturday!_

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	7. Chapter VII: Fates Intertwined

**Author's Note: **Early updates once again. The reason is this: I'm having some problems with my actual computer (this is my mom's laptop xD) and I wouldn't be able to update tomorrow. Since I don't know if I'd be able to get my hands on this laptop tomorrow, I'm leaving you with some early updates; also, you guys deserve it x333 Alright, this is one of the parts you've been all waiting for, so I won't distract you anymore. Enjoy! Oh, and the psycho games I'm playing on Jill (as some of you have said already) are almost over... almost xD Also, the chapters will be gettin much longer as we continue.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs**

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VII

Fates Intertwined

_'Insanity - a perfectly rational adjustment to an insane world.' - __R.D. Lang_

**August 1st, 2009**

**BSAA North American Branch HQ, New York**

A blue rose.

Jill had never seen a blue rose in her life but now, she had one lying on her lap at which she had stared for minutes already. Not because of its charm -because it was a beautiful flower, that she had to admit- but because of her mind's constant pondering and thinking.

The last thing she remembered from more than a week ago was herself falling into unconsciousness; that was all that still remained in her mind. Of course, the mission, Ivanov's assassination by a second party and that horror which accompanied it kept pulsating somewhere in the back of her mind, reminding her of something which she couldn't place her finger on yet. All of her attempts to remember had proved futile: no memory would come back, not even a sliver of one of them. Okay, temporary case of amnesia? Possibly; she'd have to wait until she found out. Even though a week had gone by, she was still confused and disoriented.

And rightfully so.

When she had woken up in New York, in the hospital wing of the BSAA American HQ, Jill had had no idea of where she was, how she had gotten there and what momentarily puzzled the medics as well as Graves: who she was. Much to everyone's relief and fortune, she received the answer as soon as she had demanded it: Jill Valentine. Right, momentary stunning... Jill was then filled out on the situation and what had happened so far.

After falling from that building -as Graves had said- he had found her lying unconscious on the ground, unscathed. He told her someone -it had to be _someone_- had caught her in mid-air before she could crash against the ground and kill herself. Then, when Graves had approached her, he spotted her as the centre of a small group of people, along with that blue rose next to her face.

Jill ran a finger over one of the rose's petals, blinking a few times before frowning. Pensive, she looked outside the window of her office, unconsciously clutching the rose with a bit more strength than she should have. The only few thorns that stuck out of the stem pricked very slightly at her hand, but that was the least of her problems. One question still remained, a question that would keep haunting her until she came up with an answer.

Who had saved her?

Jill had been mentioned that she had started hyperventilating at a certain moment of the mission, right before losing consciousness. To Graves' question of if she had seen someone or something she replied with a shake of her head; she didn't remember anything.

"_But you were scared out of your skin! You must remember something!"_ Graves had protested as if he found cases of memory loss abnormal. Crestfallen, Jill had admitted that she indeed was at a loss of words -and thoughts- too. If Graves had said she was so very scared, then how could she had possibly forgotten the reason why? The whole situation in itself was a mystery.

Would she find out the answer?

xx

_**August 3rd, 2009**_

_It's almost been two weeks since then, and I'm in a much better state. I've made a quick recovery in an excellent time and I feel like a normal person again. These last two weeks have been days of agony and frustration, all spiking after every attempt I made to move. I felt weak, as if it were not my body the one which I was moving. Of course, I soon found out the reason why. Until I didn't find out what had happened to me, how had I been granted life again, the frustration didn't leave me._

_I've developed a strange fear of my own reflection; quite odd, isn't it? Yes. These last days I've tried and tried to have a look at myself in a mirror, to find out about the 'new me', but I haven't been able to: I couldn't step in front of it. It's possible that I'm aware of the reason behind this fear but either I can't accept it or it's definite that I don't know. Out of some unsettling feeling, I've decided it's because I can't accept it; my mind won't allow me to do so because it's all in there, inside my mind. _

_I've lost everything. All that cost me so much to obtain, it's all gone now. And dare I say that it's not only what concerns the material, but what shaped me into who I am. My body has recovered, now it's my mind's turn. No, it'd be strange to say that I'm victim of some kind of psychological trauma; let's say it's my mind the one that's still damaged and unable to piece itself together for the moment. I haven't forgotten anything about myself; well, perhaps just a scant number of details that I assume are not important, but nothing major. This is the reason why I know I've lost all that was so hard to get._

_Some days ago, I suffered the worst outburst of rage that I had ever experienced. Now that I recall, it was when I first had a look at myself. For me, glancing at my reflection proved to be one of the most frightening experiences so far and not because of my physical appearance after all these months of treatment, but because of one damnably feature all humans have: my eyes. What wrong is there in a pair of eyes? Sure, that's a question to ask oneself._

_After examining them thoroughly, I discovered that they were almost not mine. They were so very different; I had thought that kind of eyes non-existent or, at least, the gleam in them. I remember the mix of emotions (that's another reason) that flared up: interest, disgust, shock and grief (which was one I had barely experienced before). _

_The reason why? Because I had regained my humanity and with humanity, all types of weaknesses come hand in hand. There was no way I could escape it. I wouldn't be _myself _anymore and, up until now, I've thought about giving up many times. That's one of the weaknesses humanity rewarded me with. _

_And I can't stand it._

XX

Indeed, he couldn't stand it. For Albert Wesker, a man who had never let his emotions meddle in his affairs, it wasn't going to be easy accepting the fact that they were still there. It was obvious, though: hate, disdain and pride had always been there, had always been many of the so called 'emotions' that had kept him strong, had granted him the resolve and perhaps stubbornness to carry on. But, from his point of view, the word 'emotion' enclosed a certain group of them.

And those were the heart's, those which made oneself lose sight of what was at hand.

Wesker laid down the pen, musing upon the matter. There, that one was another of those weaknesses: having to write thoughts or experiences down. He had to see the positive side, since that way he wouldn't forget easily about them, but he'd never needed to do that. It had been so long since he'd felt human again that it was somehow humiliating to see himself having stooped so low. Or maybe not so human at all.

People had always dubbed him as a psychopath and, whilst he did show himself to be one, now one would see he wasn't. True enough, Wesker had pretended to be a friendly -in his own way- person and then he had deceived others like they had never expected. Even though that had happened too many times, it hadn't always been like that. There had come a time when either Wesker hadn't needed anyone or his friendship had been true and lifelong.

Why so much thinking so early in the morning? Well, he hadn't gotten much sleep so thinking was the easiest way to keep himself awake; at least, the easiest for now.

"How long are you going to stay in there?" came a voice from the other side of his door, and it was then accompanied by soft rapping. He sighed, standing up from his seat and walking to the doorway as the rapping stopped.

"For as long as I see fit, but you're free to come in if you please," he replied, nonchalant, as he opened the door and greeted a familiar person. She gave a polite nod and went inside without meeting his gaze, something Wesker didn't find unusual: many times, her gaze was still ginger and refused to meet his. Then, his visitor turned.

"You look even better than before. Are you sure you want me to keep administrating the serum?" she asked him with a faint smile.

"It's necessary. I can't move properly yet, with all honesty," Wesker replied, instinctively stretching his arms behind his back. "Oh, keep in mind that I'm-"

"Not complaining, I know that. Besides, I wouldn't say you're complaining; you take it too much to heart," Sherry chuckled, flashing him what Wesker had always called a 'Birkin' smile, or more like a grin. Then, Sherry took out a familiar syringe and turned it around with her fingers. "In that case, it's good I came prepared."

Without needing to be told, Wesker spun around and sat on one of the chairs that were grouped around a table, rolling up the sleeve of his black sweater and motioning at Sherry for her to do the same as him. She nodded, taking a seat in front of him, and in seconds she was piercing his skin with the needle, careful. As always, the serum made his skin and his veins sting a bit, but it was nothing to worry about.

Pensive, Wesker lifted his gaze at the same time as Sherry did, and their eyes met for what it seemed aeons.

His mind suddenly thought back eleven years ago, when he had just rescued Sherry from the U.S. Government's custody. Since then, Sherry had grown under his watch and it had been seven years later that she had 'flown out of the nest' to go and enrol at university. Wesker had seen her grow into a mature and strong person; she was like her father in some aspects but completely Sherry Birkin in others. What had been unnatural was that Sherry had reminded Wesker of her father, William, more than one time: that sometimes loose but cold demeanour, her icy blue eyes, the pitch of her laughs, her usual obsessive attitude towards an important matter... In spite of that, Sherry Birkin was Sherry Birkin and that was all there was.

"I remind you, don't I?" Sherry then asked, her smile faltering a bit. "Of my father."

Wesker shrugged lightly, not breaking eye contact. "You still do, sometimes."

"He'd be happy to see you, I'm sure," she said, her gaze dreamy, "and I'd be happy to see him."

"Oh?" he hummed with curiosity: in all the years he'd been with her, Wesker had never seen such wistfulness in her bright gaze... the same as her father's, he couldn't avoid thinking.

Sherry rolled her eyes, grimacing.

"After all these years, you didn't expect me to keep a grudge against him, or did you?" she told him, her tone becoming sharper than before. "I know what happened, I know why my father did what he did and was like he was, so I don't have any reason to be resentful. I came to terms with my life and I came to terms with him a long time ago. And I still miss him." She left out a sharp exhale. "In any case, I didn't come here to talk about him; I had come here to check up on you."

"Well, you brought him up," Wesker said with a shrug, "but do change the subject. Why the sudden checkup?"

"Just to see if you are doing fine," Sherry replied, gesturing at him with her hand. "It's only been three weeks or so since you were up and running again and, even though you've progressed nicely, it's still necessary to have a look at you."

"Fine."

The checkup didn't take long, as usual. As commented by Sherry, his body had recovered without any kind of setback and, with the help of some medical equipment Sherry went to fetch, she removed the thick black threads that had sown many of his scars together. Some bled, some didn't, but Wesker made no remark at the sight of his own blood. What caught his attention was the light contrast -almost unnoticeable, though- between some parts of his skin: some were a bit lighter than his usual tanned tone.

"I've received a bit of news which I thought would interest you," said Sherry once they were finished.

"Enlighten me." Wesker measured Sherry's words with a teaspoon, wondering what kind of interesting news she had.

When he looked at her again, he took the news as severe, judging by the mild frown on the girl's face.

"Remember Chris Redfield?"

"Absolutely." Wesker's reply was prompt: how could he forget about Chris Redfield, the man who had shattered his life to miserable pieces? A sudden surge of rage coursed through him and it was thanks to his self-control that he didn't make any gesture that would let it show.

"He's dead," Sherry said flatly, and it took Wesker a few moments to digest what she had said. Not that he thought Chris was never going to die -both Wesker and Chris were cockroaches to each other- but he didn't expect it to be so soon and sudden. It took him all of his efforts to prevent his lips from curving into a wicked grin of victory.

"How did it happen?"

"By your own hands, although indirectly," Sherry replied crossing her arms. "By one of your creations, the most powerful so far." She smirked with as much wickedness as the one that gnawed at Wesker's chest. "Oh, how Claire must be grieving his death..."

"I thought you were in good terms with her," he said, his tone caustic. "After all, she helped you escape Raccoon City and saved you from your father. I assumed you were still indebted to her in some way?"

"I _was _in good terms with her, that's the thing."

"Whatever made you change your mind?"

"I really don't know," she answered, shrugging. "I guess it must've been time."

Wesker mused upon her words, coming to the conclusion that she hadn't meant that. Claire was Chris' sister, Chris was his enemy so, by extension, Claire was too; that much, both he and she had figured out. But why that evasive answer? Did Sherry still feel some kind of attachment to Claire?

"Then time it's been," Wesker said at last, finding it sensible not to bring up the subject again. "I believe I'll pay a small visit to an old... friend of mine."

"Be careful," Sherry warned, "since a man like you is not a common sight around the streets."

"There's no need to remind me; still, you're never cautious enough." With that, Wesker procured his trench-coat from behind his door and left at a calm pace. Whilst he made his way out of the building, he thought about this 'friend' he'd pay a visit to: how would she react? Oh, that'd be most interesting to see, especially after hearing about Chris' death.

It was a topic that came back to his mind, and the sole idea of imagining him dead brought back a joy he'd never thought he'd feel again. His creation had killed Chris; he, _Albert Wesker_, had killed Chris. He had fulfilled the oath he had made to himself... even though he hadn't been there. That was a minor inconvenience and a major preference, but it was better not to look a gift horse in the mouth. No matter what, Wesker had succeeded.

_Uroboros_ had succeeded.

xx

Jill flopped down onto the sofa and released a sigh, letting her whole body relax. It had been a busy day this one, and she had ended up a bit more than tired. She remained there for what it seemed an eternity, enjoying the blissful emptiness of her mind. It was the first time in many days that she had banished all thoughts from her head; not all of them though, since some still were allowed to remain.

With a shake of her head, she looked up front and laid her eyes on the blue rose that was resting inside a small, long vase upon a low cabinet. Why she had kept it like that she didn't know, perhaps because she had the feeling that, sooner or later, she'd find the answers she was looking for, and that all depended on that small flower. Jill frowned, staring at it once again for the usual two minutes, and then sighed again.

"Where did you come from?" she asked out loud, and she soon realized the stupidity of that question. She stood up, walked up to the cabinet and picked the rose up, promptly propping herself against the small piece of furniture. "Will you grant me the answers I'm looking for? It's really annoying to be an amnesiac, you know-"

"That little present might not be the key to obtaining those answers. Shall I say _I_ might be that key?"

The same moment she heard that voice, Jill froze in her place, the horror that soon overcame her rendering her unable to move or even almost to breathe. Slowly, very slowly, she lifted her gaze, only to find the silhouette of the man she had always feared the most propped against the wall in front of her. The rose fell from her hands, landing on the floor with a faint sound, and she stood there, gaping at him.

"N-No..."

Oh yes, he was. When he stepped forward, the orange-coloured sunlight that came through the large window highlighting his features, Jill felt the urge to scream but no sound came.

"I believe 'yes', Miss Valentine."

She cringed when she heard him pronounce her name. Jill suddenly found no sense to the situation, as if the cogs in her head were lacking the necessary oil to turn and fit together as they should. She wanted to pinch herself, to convince herself of the unreality of the matter; this couldn't be happening.

"This can't be happening..." she said, completely forgetting about keeping her thoughts to herself.

"Trust me, it _is_ happening."

Jill refused to believe it.

"_Let's go... before...too late...ker."_

_-ker, -ker... _

Of course; it had just clicked.

_Why didn't I realize before?! Why didn't I remember before?! I should've known! I should've!_

Albert Wesker was still alive.

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_A/N: Aha! So, small summary: Wesker's alive, Sherry's with him, Jill knows Wesker's still alive, he's right in front of her and... well, you'll see what he'll ask for in the next chapter. I'm leaving behind a lot of clues, and A LOT xDDD Have in mind the blue rose Jill was given; it'll play an important part in future chapters... Look a blue rose's meaning up on the Internet and you'll see what I'm talking about. Remember: guesses are forbidden in reviews, everything will be confirmed through PM. Something else: I haven't revealed -and I won't- much about Wesker's physical appearance until later on; I'll include some details in some chapters, some won't have, but everything will be explained at the end, just give it some time._

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	8. Chapter VIII: Ghost Of The Past

**Author's Note:** Yes! This is another update and a very special on: it's a two-chapter special. Reason? First, because I felt like it; second, because you deserve it. I have gotten so many alerts and reviews that I can't believe my eyes and can't thank you all guys enough, so here you go! This time, you'll suffer from a horrible cliffhanger whilst you wait for Friday's update; yes, from now on it's going to be Tuesdays and Fridays. And believe it or not, this is going to go over the twenty four chapters, so you're in for a real treat... and there's a sequel planned already. Anyways, enjoy this read and thanks!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs**

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VIII

Ghost Of The Past

_'We do not believe in immortality because we can prove it, but we try to prove it because we cannot help believing it.' __Harriet Martineau_

"_This can't be happening..." she said, completely forgetting about keeping her thoughts to herself. _

"_Trust me, it _is _happening."_

The pain the knot in Jill's stomach was causing her was almost unbearable and she had to gulp several times to keep herself from having a panic attack. If she had to write her experiences down as if it were an essay, she'd just fill the paper with one word: terror and, maybe, all of its synonyms. She could muster no energy to move or even talk and she remained there, staring into his hidden gaze and feeling all colour draining from her face.

"I heard the news. My condolences," Wesker said, his tone caustic and horribly sarcastic. This triggered a fast reaction from Jill -the reaction being putting one foot forward- but she controlled herself. This was what he wanted, whether he was alive or not: he wanted to taunt her, to see if she was as weak-hearted as before. To disguise how she felt, Jill scowled at him, silent.

_This is all inside my mind, this can't be happening, it can't, it can't, it can't, it-_

"I don't read minds, but I can tell you're forcing yourself to believe that I'm not real." He took one step forward, and Jill could hear the sound of his boot against the carpet. Great, he _was _there, whether she liked it or not. Still, she made no sound or movement. "Well, the official story is true: I was dead -_was, _mind you- but you didn't think you'd kill me so easily, or did you? Chris was naïve after all, and you of all people should've-"

"Don't you dare insult him," Jill seethed. "It was your fault this happened in the first place. Have you come to finish me off? Let me tell you I won't go down without one last fight."

"Let _me_ tell _you_ that I have no intention of killing you today," Wesker interjected. "It's not in my best interest, not yet. Also, it'd be good if you had in mind that it was _me_ who killed him."

It clicked: Uroboros. What Chris had been injected had been Uroboros, and it had killed him.

"No..."

"Oh yes, Miss Valentine, I did. You know I had that goal set and I'd do anything to see it accomplished; now, it is. Would you care to hear how I did it?"

Jill, who was clearly not in the best mood to tolerate his words, didn't hesitate to move this time, and all because of the abrupt rush of adrenaline and anger that coursed through her system, the rush that led her to lose all capability of rational thought and deprived her of replying to:

What the hell was she doing?

"You son of a bitch!!" she screamed, lunging at him with a fierce movement. Wesker stopped her punch at midway, but Jill was quick enough to make him bend forward and she brought up her knee to his gut, landing a strong blow that made her enemy cough. For a moment, it struck her: had she just _hit_ Wesker? She had never been able to put a hand on him and now she had!

Wesker wasted no time though and he sent Jill backwards with one of the kicks she'd seen -and received- too many times: the Jaguar Kick, and it didn't fail to leave her stunned this time either. Her vision was blurred because of the pain and Jill shook her head to make shrug the dizziness away.

_'Ipso facto, Wesker crouched, turned her around and his hand closed around Jill's neck, so strong he threatened to crush her windpipe...'_

That also happened, just like in the all-too familiar image that flashed through Jill's mind, but this time she wasn't injured, her legs weren't thrashed and riddled with cuts and bruises, her mind wasn't damaged either; in short: she was in perfect condition. As such, she pushed Wesker off her and imitated his action as she wondered how the hell she had managed to do so. Pinning Wesker down was something close to unimaginable... and then another realization dawned upon her.

He hadn't used any kind of superhuman ability to dodge her attacks or even immobilize her.

It was then that Jill heard a gasp but she was too concentrated on something else to realize it had come from her own mouth. She felt her expression changing into one of shock as her eyes widened and her brow creased, overcome by some sort of strange emotion that had bloomed inside her. What was it? Pity? Sure as hell not; it was something else, something indescribable, something close to grief but too far from it at the same time. What was it?

What she had focused on was Wesker's face, the something which left her unable to mutter even an exclamation. He looked much younger, many signs of age gone, yet that was the only positive thing of his condition, which was much more dreadful. The whole left side of his face -from the roots of his now darker hair to half of his jaw- was scarred, the ends which met his normal tone of skin irregular, jagged. Jill's eyes drifted downwards, only to find that the scar went even past his jaw and extended throughout his neck, a sight that led her to the conclusion that that scarred skin covered half -or even more- of his body.

There was one more thing that had changed, and it was by looking at it -also because of the absence of his shades- that Jill knew the reason of his lack of abnormal abilities: his eyes. They had recovered the same icy blue hue Jill remembered having seen many years ago and the humanly cold and impassive gleam that always made you think he was looking daggers at you.

That was the key word. _Human, human, human_.

All of this transpired in mere moments. Jill didn't even notice Wesker hadn't struggled to free himself from her grip and when she did, she tensed, knowing that in one moment or another that she being knocked out would perhaps be the upshot. No blows came though, only an intense, fierce and furious stare.

"What now?" she seethed even though her voice was calm. Wesker's came as calm as hers.

"Where's Chris?" he asked, and Jill tightened her free fist.

"Why do you want to know? You know he's dead; what else do you want?! Haven't you had enough already?"

"What are you going to do, finish me off?"

That was the last straw. With a swift movement, Jill took out the knife she always had hidden in her boot and placed it at Wesker's throat, suddenly driven by an urge to kill. Oh well, killer senses never leave people, no matter how benign they are.

"I could right now, and you know it. It's more than ob-"

"Then why don't you do it?" Wesker said, cutting through her words. "You have me right here, pinned against the ground, one hand and a knife against my throat and you still can't bring yourself to do it. I can see the hesitation in your eyes, it hasn't disappeared yet; why's that? Is there something you haven't realized yet?"

Indeed, Jill could feel herself hesitating. There was one question she had asked to which she didn't want to know the answer, but she was also positive on hearing it. What would happen next? Wesker was right: with just one movement, she could finish him off and put an end to his existence _once and for all_, so why doubt? Still, she asked,

"Why do you want to know where Chris is?"

"If you're so kind to let go of me, I'll reply to that question," he answered.

"How do I know you won't kill me?"

"I've told you already: I'm not going to do so."

Jill felt he knew she'd comply to his request, and she also felt Wesker had vital information. Well, it was always about who had the information and who didn't: right now, Wesker had it and Jill didn't, so it was in 'her best interest' -just like he always said- to be aware of it. On top of that, Jill wanted to know the reason behind Chris' condition of 'dead life', to put it like that. If he had been 'killed' by Uroboros, then why wasn't he really _dead_?

She took a deep breath and withdrew, standing up but not sheathing the knife. At the same time Wesker sat up, reaching for his fallen shades and putting them on again.

"Alright, I've kept my part. Now it's your turn," Jill said, edgy.

"I only wish to know about his condition, that's all," Wesker replied as if nothing had happened. Jill sighed, not taking her eyes off him, and pursed her lips before saying,

"I know you have information that I should have, and it's the same with me. You're not going away without an exchange, and I'm not either. I'll tell you about Chris if you answer the question I'll ask you."

Wesker only shrugged. "Very well. Tell me."

"Chris didn't really die; at least, that's what the paramedics told me. What really happened was that, after taking him in and five long hours, they told me they couldn't identify the viral agent he was injected. At the same time, Chris was still..." She paused, swallowing, "still alive, but he wasn't conscious. The day later, I was told that no body functions were registered but it was as if everything was working: every tissue, every cell, _everything _was alive. They evaluated his reflexes and his muscles still moved, although there was no brain activity."

Silence ensued, a silence during which Jill gauged Wesker's reaction. None came... for a moment. Then,

"Damn that little cockroach..." Wesker muttered, his tone furious. "I wonder why I didn't put a bullet to his head before, but oh well..." He lifted his gaze to Jill. "Out of this explanation, I've come to realize what is that question of yours: why can he still be alive, yes?"

"Something told me you knew about that," Jill retorted. "Tell me."

Wesker swallowed and took his time to reply. Also, Jill had the feeling he was hesitating for reasons unknown. "I have an assumption, although I'd like to see him first to say if I'm right or wrong. Just so that... I don't hurt your feelings if I come to the wrong conclusion. How about a bargain?"

_And what the hell do you know about feelings, Wesker?_

Jill scoffed even though she knew Chris' well-being depended on her answer. "A bargain? Since when do you make deals with someone like me?"

"This would be the first time, Miss Valentine, and with a good reason," Wesker said. "You take me to him and I give you the answers you're looking for. Yes, a very simple bargain, but the upshot of this whole situation depends solely on your answer. I'd recommend choosing carefully."

Jill lowered her gaze, thinking it through. There was no other way to deal with Wesker, and she was no expert on how Uroboros worked. She told herself over and over again: Chris' life was a single, thin thread and she had the scissors. She could either cut it or leave it alone, it was her call. Although making deals with Wesker wasn't on her agenda, Jill had to admit that she had the upper hand: Wesker had no superhuman abilities she had to deal with now. Either that or he hadn't used them yet.

Her answer came a few seconds later.

"Okay. I'll take you to see Chris, with only one condition... and you'd better agree to it."

"What made you think I wouldn't? After all, you're the one that has the first move in this game: either I agree or there's no start. What's that condition?"

"Don't lay a single finger on him. Even though he's still alive -and I know that's not been good news to you- I won't give you the chance to kill him," Jill posed, making no movements towards the door.

"You have my word, and mind you... I tend to keep it," Wesker replied without pausing to think.

"Haven't I seen that many times..." Jill muttered, her voice low but still loud enough for Wesker to hear. She wanted him to hear that, in fact, and she knew he did.

Without nothing more to say, Jill grabbed her jacket and strode to the door, opening it with a swift movement. She paused, sharing one last glance with him, and then made her way down the stairs with Wesker following closely.

For a moment, Jill wondered what the fuck -not _hell_ but what the _fuck_- she was doing.

xx

"This is it. I'm warning you: one movement-"

"And I'm done for. Although where have I heard that one before?" Wesker snickered, rolling his eyes. Jill punched in a security code -one he did well in memorizing- and the door opened in a quick motion, letting them go inside. They did, and Wesker found himself similar to an Umbrella laboratory, though this was for a much different cause.

He followed Jill down an aisle, taking in all kinds of details that could prove useful for situations unknown and preferably avoidable. There came a moment when he stopped in his tracks for a second, right when he caught sight of Chris Redfield lying unconscious upon a bed, surrounded by machines that kept track of his vitals. Needless to say, they were of no utility.

As he approached his nemesis, Wesker felt himself as the north pole of a magnet approaching the north pole of another: there was no way he could get any closer. Just the sight of him, being aware of Chris' presence fuelled his hate and his resent, and he felt tempted to grab whatever utensil he had at hand and plunge it deep into his heart to finally put an end to the psychological torture that knowing Chris was alive was. Still, he had made an oath; also, he was there to answer both his and Jill's questions... mostly his own, though.

Wesker took in Chris' appearance, absorbing every detail that could help him elaborate and confirm his theory. His skin had taken a very light shade of grey or close to white and, as Jill had told him, there seemed to be no signs of activity. Judging by the colour of his skin, Wesker knew his assumptions were far from wrong, and that was exactly what he feared.

"Are there any reports on his state?" he asked, and he received a shake of Jill's head as a response. "That complicates things a tad. Is-" He interrupted himself when he caught sight of a black mark on Chris' ashen neck, and he extended a ginger hand to lower his enemy's jacket and examine it a bit better. "Typical."

"What's typical?" Jill intervened, taking a few steps forward.

"If you come here, you'll see it. These erosions on the skin are common in Uroboros' infectees and also the flesh's and the muscles' decay. They only disappear when the virus' initial phase of adaptation is near completion, which is slow and complex."

"What would it mean if the erosions healed?" Jill inquired, frowning. By some reason, Wesker interpreted the question in the typical way: she knew the answer but she was afraid of it. She didn't want to come to the conclusion all by herself; she needed someone else to share her fears with.

All of a sudden they heard a wet sound and saw something wriggling under Chris' skin, something Wesker had already seen many times. He heard Jill gasp beside him and he would've done so too if it wasn't because of his iron leash on his emotions. Following the wet sounds came Chris' grunts in pain and he started tossing in his unconscious sleep as he clenched and unclenched his fists. What was the most surprising and horrible thing of all: he still wasn't breathing.

And then, he did, he started taking short breaths. In moments, Chris' breathing had turned to slow and calm to rushed and irregular, as if he were hyperventilating.

Wesker remained impassive, watching with clenched teeth and fists how the answer to Jill's earlier question manifested itself through the changes Chris' body was undergoing. A black pustule burst out from his jugular and writhed in the air as if celebrating its escape from its host's body.

"Oh God, Chris!"

Wesker did nothing. A voice in the back of his mind kept telling him to stay still, to watch Chris suffer as he whimpered and cried out in pain, but he obtained no pleasure in that. There was a reason behind that numbness in his soul, and that reason was Wesker was preparing himself for the rage that would assail him sooner than later.

"Wesker, he's-"

"Not going to die!" he shot back, his head perking up. Jill fell silent, the gleam in her eyes telling Wesker she had figured out the answer. Wesker was so engrossed in his thoughts, so busy in letting himself be drowned in his own sea of hate that he didn't pay any attention to anything else, only to Chris' agony.

He felt so very tempted to kill Chris right then and there, he found it so very difficult to control the killer instinct he'd kept on a leash for many years and so very cruel what was happening right now. It was impossible, unnatural, ironic. It was as if whoever was in Heaven -or Hell, for that matter- was making fun of him and telling him 'Suck on this!'. For once, the irony had come back to bite him, and it hurt.

A sudden chill ran down his spine and his lip curved up in derision.

"Miss Valentine, I really hope you can stand irony."

It was all so _fucking_ unfair.

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_A/N: Aha! Go on, get on to the next chapter!_

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	9. Chapter IX: Ambush

**Author's Note:** Second chapter of the special, where a new character makes his appearance and a new revelation is made. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs**

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IX

Ambush

_'Hunger for power is evil's true root...' - __Judith Moirae_

Marco Gionne was slouched in his leather seat, his gaze going from left to right as he skimmed through the pages of the book he was reading with unfaltering interest. He had spent the last few minutes reading non-stop, getting pulled into the story further and further as the plot deepened and became more complex with every page he turned. Oh, how he was enjoying it... just like his sister had. Marco suddenly tore his gaze away from the book, closed it and stood up, biting on his lip as he then closed his eyes. He couldn't think about Excella, not now.

Excella Gionne, aside from being his sister, had been a mentor figure for him, had been someone whose decisions Marco would've backed up till the very end, had been someone who had given him a place in the world. Having descended from a prestigious family and be rejected cruelly because of that had been something neither him or Excella had took well enough, and it was then when their relationship had strengthened. Excella had promised him that she'd be the best there was, that she would literally breeze through her studies and be number one from the very beginning. That was when Marco decided to follow her steps.

Whilst as not as cunning or intelligent as Excella, Marco was perceptive and had his feet firmly set on the ground, a trait which had showed itself for the first time through his unusual maturity at the young age of ten. For this reason, his mind was considered a very dangerous one, since he could think ahead of other people and perform unexpected moves after planning them with care. He was also a fierce competitor and in school had held severe rivalries with almost all of his peers, leading everyone to think that he was arrogant and contemptuous when in reality he wasn't.

There were many other traits that differenced him from Excella even though he indeed promised to himself that he'd support her at any time. One of those traits was his modesty and his introversion, each one caused by the ambient both at school and at university. Being three years Excella's junior, Marco had heard rumours about his sister's intelligence, success -and, inevitably, her proud character- in both institutions and since they didn't get to see her, his peers always asked Marco the questions. It had all come like a tidal wave, praise and congratulations as well as disrespect and loathing; he received much more of the latter. And that was only at school.

At university, things got worse. Tricell, being the important company it was, always had to have some rumours about it being brewed; by who, it didn't matter. Marco was made the scapegoat of Tricell's activities, and there came a time when he couldn't even raise his hand in class. Terror of humiliation and being laughed at was something that unnerved him, something that had almost triggered many disastrous anxiety fits. Much to his dismay, he knew he couldn't rely on Excella and her comforting words this time.

By that time, it was the year 2004 and Marco was seventeen years of age; at that time, he received news of Excella's activities with a certain man, a man whose surname and face were the only thing he knew: Wesker.

Albert Wesker was the man he had sworn to kill.

As Marco stood up from his seat, he reasoned that the blame couldn't be entirely shifted on him; Excella had also been responsible for everything that happened. In spite of having maintained a steady and firm relationship with his sister, Marco had many times argued with her because of her haughtiness amongst others, mostly because his own modesty and humbleness. Because of Excella's desire to prove her worth, she had gone on a search for power and wealth. Marco had known that not much would go according to her expectations, especially with the overconfidence with which Excella always stepped forward. Her steps had become unsteady at the end, and she had fallen.

That wasn't enough for Marco to hold a grudge against Excella. He had loved his sister very much, and nobody had the right of taking away the only member of the family left. This was the reason why he had sworn revenge on everyone who had dared to hurt the Gionne family and God help him, he was going to make it.

Marco had attended the trial against Tricell as the company's representative after Excella's demise, having been declared the unofficial CEO of the company until one was elected. His revenge started that day, the same moment he'd have the faces of the BSAA's Original Eleven's members in front of him. A hatred towards Oliver Graves was born, a hatred towards the whole Alliance was born.

It had taken him his time to bribe the African government, especially the one in charge of the KAZ, but his efforts had paid off in the end. After minutes of heated arguments, Marco managed to make it out of the trial with the company still in one piece. No later than two weeks after that, he had no other choice but to disband Tricell. It was exactly what he wanted.

Marco was known for his skilful way to deal in secrecy, and that's what he had done. A week and a half later of hard work, hectic routines and many trips to many locations, Marco succeeded in gathering the majority of Ricardo Irving's contacts, such as Vasily Ivanov and his cousin Mikhail or David Janssen, whom along with Maria Greene and Grant Matthews -another trio of dealers close to Irving- had been Marco's most faithful contact. Others, like Vasily's long-time friend Sashko, were of minor importance but still played an important role in Marco's plans.

They had been the ones that had allowed him to spread the virus samples available through the black market again. In late May of 2009, the BSAA found itself in another hectic period of bioterrorist activity, precisely what Marco wanted. The dealers that were brave enough to be captured by the Alliance were instructed by Marco himself to mention his name, so that the world knew that the Gionne were still alive, up and running. The executive board of Tricell had no complains in declaring Marco as the new CEO of the bioweapon development division of the company since it was all because of personal interest.

Everything was going as planned for now. Marco had never been an overconfident man and he knew that in one moment or another everything could go down the drain. For example, through David he had come to know about Vasily's, Mikhail's and Arturo's deaths by an unknown second party who wanted them dead. He knew it wasn't the BSAA who had been trailing them, no; it would've been too risky for them to carry out such operations.

Somebody else was playing his game.

Marco heard a soft rapping at his door and he uttered an absentminded 'Come in' as he turned around to greet his visitor. His assistant, Juno Rossi, stepped inside with a serious expression. Marco flashed her a pleased smile before bowing his head at her.

"Miss Rossi, it's nice to see you. What's the matter?" he asked, surprised by the softness of his voice. Juno, who was a woman known for her ability to keep people at arm's length with astoundingly good results, nodded at Marco and spoke,

"Mr. Gionne, you have a call. It's urgent." Marco narrowed his eyes, measuring Juno's words with care, nodded and followed her down the hall to the meeting room.

"Did the caller specify their name?" he asked her as they trotted down the hall. Juno shook her head, silent, and Marco frowned. Once they reached the meeting room, both people parted ways and Marco was left alone inside the room, standing at the other side of the long meeting table. At its other side was a big screen that was already showing the caller, although the person had their back turned on Marco.

"Did you call for me?" Marco asked, crossing the room at a slow pace. When the caller turned around, Marco cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "This is a pleasant surprise, Miss Bristow. How may I help you?"

"Enough with the formalities, Marco," she snapped, her blue gaze staring right into his. Marco drew in a sharp breath, taking in her features.

"May I know what the hell are you playing at?" Marco snapped back. "You should know better than testing my patience. "

"Heh, specially when we took out your dealers?" She smirked. "Look, we warned you. We told you we'd be behind your back, and that's what we're doing. I wasn't going to allow any other kind of deals to take place."

"Well, you missed one, Rho's CEO, Miss Sherry Birkin," Marco tittered, his tone matter-of-fact. "I received the Uroboros sample I was looking for from Sashko a mere week ago and now I'm looking for a full-fledged specimen. I know where to get it now; dear Vasily told me before he died."

"A full-fledged specimen?"

"Right now, I'd guess we're competing for the same thing, so I'd recommend you hurry up before I get my hands on the prize. Of course, I've had the upper hand and the team I sent to retrieve him is already on its way; in fact, they must've arrived to New York City by now. This is a race now, Miss Birkin, and I suggest you catch up quickly. I'll leave you a hint: it is the man you thought dead... two days ago, barely?"

He saw how Sherry's eyes widened and how her brow creased. "You're not saying it's..."

"Oh well, I can be referring to anyone," Marco replied, throwing his hands into the air. "But you know who that man is. So, since I have nothing else to tell you -and you also don't- it's best that we both get to work, shall we? I'll be awaiting your news, Miss Birkin."

With that, the screen went black and Marco remained staring at it for a few seconds, folding his arms across his chest.

_Now that was a short conversation, and she really did seem pissed off. Well, she can't blame me; after all, it was Janssen that supplied her with the samples she needed, so the time for retribution is near. Even though she's not willing to cooperate and she's determined on bringing Tricell down as the BSAA did, I won't let that happen. One way or another, she will comply._

Marco swivelled around and made his way outside the room, his gait that of a determined and confident person. If everything succeeded, he would get his hands on the subject he'd been looking for.

But he still didn't know what awaited him.

xx

"God, what just happened?"

It had taken Jill almost all of her strength to hold herself back and refrain from yanking at the pustules and cutting them off with just a swipe of her knife. She had never seen Chris in such pain, although this time it wasn't pain caused by a wound. She remained staring at him, the tension draining away another bit of her energy, and had to lean against a nearby table to keep herself on her feet. Jill had already seen Uroboros, many of its transformations and its actions when rejecting a host, but she didn't know what was worse: seeing it bond with the host or rejecting it and devouring it.

Chris was alive: he was breathing, he had responded to the pain, he still tossed and turned in silence. It was a relief to see so, but something like a voice in the back of her mind was telling Jill that that change Chris had experienced was only the beginning of something worse, far worse than what he was going through now. She then tore her gaze away to glance at Wesker, whom she caught turning away from Chris and withdrawing a few steps. She stayed silent, looking at him, expectant.

"What if I told you?" he said at last, tilting his head backwards. Jill frowned.

"I'd listen, that's all. I'm doing this to get the answers I need, nothing else," she posed, firm.

"I'll remain sceptical about that, if you allow me," Wesker said, showing his demeanour as sceptical as his words. Jill decided not to insist. Agreeing or not, to keep poking him until he spilled everything out was far from successful and not very recommendable.

_Wonder what's going on? I've never seen him so hesitant._

A sudden wave of sound made them become especially alert. Jill's head perked up and she stole a glance at the door, hearing footsteps -of several people, as she could soon deduce- approaching the room. And they were close, very close.

"...disposed of his body yet. It's not like we can, though."

"That's... that's Graves!" Jill exclaimed, recognizing the voice from the outside.

_And he's not alone. Whoever's with him, they're asking about Chris. We have to hide; they're about to-_

"I'd recommend getting out of their sight!"

Wesker's rushed voice took her out of her thoughts, and Jill proceeded to hide behind a metal cabinet near a closet which was ajar. The doors would provide enough cover for her to go unnoticed. Milliseconds before she ducked and disappeared from view, the people came inside. As Jill took a peek, tilting her head very slightly, she found out that it was indeed Graves, along with a pair of individuals, a man and a woman. Who could they be?

"Are you really sure you'll be able to treat him?" Graves asked the woman. "Our paramedics can't deal with whatever's inside him; they weren't even able to name it." His tone was serious and showed the concern that he still felt. The woman chuckled, her voice light and good-natured, and she past her companion to approach Chris' figure. Jill couldn't help a scowl.

_I don't like this. This is too suspicious. It's not like Graves would bring someone here who claims to be a doctor and knows about this kind of thing, no. Even he told me that he'd picked whom he placed his trust in with care... are these really the right people?_

"Of course," the woman replied. "It's a bit late now though, and we're tired from the flight. I'm sure you understand, Mr. Graves."

"I do, Miss Greene. Would tomorrow be a good day to start?" Graves inquired, relief traceable in his voice. When Miss Greene's voice didn't come as soon as they had expected, Jill feared for Oliver's life.

"It would," Miss Greene said at last, "but you won't be here with us."

Jill watched the red-haired woman take her hand to the inside of her jacket... and retrieve a gun from the inside, a gun which she quickly aimed at Graves' chest. The world seemed to turn a bit slower, since Jill found the time to look at Wesker, receive a gesture from him that told her to stay put and then look at Miss Greene again. When she did, a gunshot had already pierced the silence.

_'The sound of a gunshot broke the silence and the smell of the casings reached Jill's nose. The bullet had landed mere millimetres away from her head, the gun which Wesker was holding still trained on the middle of her brow...'_

The flashback hit her all of a sudden, and Jill could only take her hand to her mouth to avoid gasping or exclaiming when she heard Graves groan and collapse to the grey-tiled floor. The realization dawned upon her as heavily as Graves' body collided with the floor.

_They're here to take Chris!_

She turned her head to her left again, hoping to catch sight of Wesker, but she didn't find him where he was supposed to be, but at the doors. In seconds, he had closed them and had blocked them with a chair, the most useful object he had at hand. It was then when Greene and her companion were aware of his presence, and Jill didn't hesitate: coming out from her hideout, she brought her index finger and her thumb to her lips and whistled, distracting both strangers.

"Grant!" exclaimed Greene, sidestepping. The man known as Grant unsheathed a pocket knife and placed it above Chris' heart. Everyone halted to a stop in mere seconds, as if they had been frozen. Also, they were all armed: both Wesker and Greene had their guns, both Jill and Grant had their knives. Jill came to notice with dread that Greene's gun was no ordinary one: it was a .40 S&W calibre Walther P99, hence the large hole in Graves' still bleeding chest. Another one on hers and she was as good as dead.

"Careful," warned Greene, "one false move and he'll be worse than dead." Jill stole a glance at Grant and then focused on Greene again, gripping her knife tighter than before.

"What do you want with him?"

"You don't think we'll tell you, do you?" Greene prompted with a smirk.

"This matter concerned only us and Mr. Graves, who unfortunately hasn't made it far."

"Who sends you? Perhaps the option of negotiating is available."

Grant, Greene and Jill turned towards Wesker, whose voice had sounded full of sarcasm to its entirety. Greene snorted, contemptuous.

"If it isn't Mr. Wesker himself! We have heard much about you, mostly thanks to your latest... asset's brother?" she posed, caustic. Jill felt an uneasy knot tighten in her stomach.

_Marco Gionne? Is it him who's sent them here?_

"Oh, so it's Mr. Marco pulling the strings now?"

Jill shifted her weight to the left leg, feeling uncomfortable. Wesker was really getting a kick out of this conversation, even though Jill failed to see the humorous point of it all. What she did see was how close she was both to Grant and Greene; with a stroke of luck, she might even as well be able to disarm them and give her and Wesker the upper hand, but what if there was no such stroke? On top of everything, Chris' life was at stake, discarding the theories Wesker hadn't shared with her yet.

"Surprise!"

That was a voice none of them had expected to hear again. The dry croak had come from Graves, who had the butt of his gun resting on his hip and was aimed at Greene's thigh. With one last grunt in effort, Graves pulled the trigger before the gun was kicked out of his hand by Grant, and the bullet hit its mark. Greene recoiled, releasing a short cry in pain and clutching her injured leg, and Jill found her opportunity to act. With only so much as a step, she moved forward and lifted her knife to Grant's throat, but the man soon elbowed her away.

Jill suddenly saw Wesker take a step forward, lift his firearm and aim at Grant. If she stayed in front of him, something bad could happen.

_Move it!_

Jill did as her conscience told, not wanting to be in the middle of the bullet's path, and she tackled Greene to the ground with a swift low kick. Wesker's target dropped dead beside the bed with a bullet to his brow; Greene was the only one left alive. After Jill made sure Greene wouldn't move, she neared Graves' body and examined him, looking for any signs that told her he was still alive. But Oliver Graves was already dead.

A bolt of pain struck Jill's heart, despising the thought of having to feel again such sorrow. No matter where she went, there was still someone who'd get the short end of the stick; was she like the Jonas of the ship? She closed Graves' eyes, biting the inside of her lip.

_Thanks for sticking with us, Oliver._

Jill lifted her gaze at Wesker again, only to find him knocking Greene unconscious with a swift blow of his gun to her temple. The blow was strong enough for the skull to crack a bit; at least that's what Jill heard. With enough luck -or maybe not so much- Greene had been killed by 'accident'. Having finished that, Wesker concealed his gun and proceeded to disconnect the machines, Jill catching the hint the same moment he snapped his fingers.

It didn't take them long; with care and a few seconds they had succeeded in not waking Chris, and each one of them snaked an arm of Chris' around their shoulders.

"Thanks for the warning, sharpshooter," Jill snapped, referring to the earlier risk of getting shot. She received a mild, mocking chuckle from Wesker.

"Lousy humour as always, but you're welcome," he replied with as much sarcasm as her, possibly even more. "Enough with the banter; we have someone to assist."

Jill couldn't agree more. As they started walking, an interesting question popped up in her mind: who else, aside from Chris, did Wesker mean to assist?

_Why would you ask that stupid question to yourself, Jill? You already know he's only doing it for himself... Even so, time will tell. For now, just keep your guard up. You have Chris now; you'd better get him to safety._

Much to Jill's surprise, Chris was lighter than before and easier to carry, so they wasted no time. Though before they could even move, Chris sprung to consciousness with a violent jerk of his body, almost making them fall, and then Wesker jumped away from him, mildly gaping at his enemy. Jill was quick to catch Chris again and searched for his gaze, but it was trained upon Wesker.

_Go wonder how he'll take all this! He's already seen him!_

Before nothing else could happen, Chris' head fell forward, limp, and his body relaxed again. Once more he was unconscious. Jill lifted her gaze up at Wesker, whose fist had clenched but his expression seemed unruffled.

_I know it's the fact of having to help Chris, but what's gotten into him? This goes even beyond enmity, I'm sure of that._

In seconds, Wesker shook his head as if trying to clear it and assisted Jill in her task. He was silent, no comments to make, and they started walking out of the room. Whilst the silence lasted, Jill wondered: what had made Chris have that slight spark of consciousness? What had Wesker seen that had left him... shaken?

To all these questions she would get answers, sooner or later.

"It shouldn't take too long to get out," said Jill, breaking the silence at last, "unless they had others waiting for us."

"It'd be the typical move, as always," Wesker commented as if he were disappointed. "If that's the case, do you know of any secondary exits?" Jill didn't reply for a few seconds, becoming pensive, and she shook her head.

"I know of other exits, but it'd be difficult to go carrying Chris. It's also shorter, but it leads underground. Needless to mention, that exit might be also covered, if it is," she told him, and Wesker rolled his eyes, also shaking his head.

"Always the inconvenience. In any case, we should-"

"Hold it right there!"

Jill's face dropped in shock. "What the-"

Busted.

* * *

_A/N: Here it is, the end... not of the story, of course! XD In any case, let me explain some things:_

_*) I decided to introduce Marco here because I thought it the best moment to do so. Also, I really didn't want to make him like Excella, all arrogant and what have you. He's much more calm and modest, although he doesn't lack the pride of the Gionne. His physical description will come later; for now, I wanted to focus on his personality and background. Also, the Janssen -David Janssen- is one of the dealers back from chapter 3, if my memory serves me well. He, along with Greene -Maria Greene- will play an important part on this story; you shall see how. Explanation with spoilers? Maybe, but it's just so that you didn't get confused on the chapter where they make their next appearance.  
**) Sherry adopted the surname 'Bristow' instead of 'Birkin' after she was taken under Wesker's wing; at least, that's my take. I guess it wouldn't be very safe to be related to William, especially after Raccoon City and the pressure Umbrella was put under after the incident. You shall also see what's all this with the 'Rho CEO' thing, okay?_

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	10. Chapter X: Tables Have Turned

**Author's Note:** Alrighty, the update's here, as it should. I'd like to say this is the other chapter where the thing goes down the pan and where the plot (real plot) starts for real -excuse the repetition xD Okay, I hope you like this one... and something caught my attention: in every single one of the reviews, I've been asked not to make Wesker's scars permanent. All I have to say is: RELAX, people, relax. No need to fear for our friend's wellbeing; he's gonna be fine. And also, he's human. Yes, people, he IS, because you can't escape the explosion of two RPGs at such a close range and swim your way out of a pool of scorching lava without actually losing something; everything has a price. But as I said before, relax. You'll find out about everything in due time.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs**

* * *

X

Tables Have Turned

_'What sane person could live in this world and not be crazy?' Ursula K. LeGuin_

Wesker's reaction was immediate: before the armed soldiers had a chance to start shooting, he pushed Jill into the hall they had at their left, not even caring if he fell as she did. As soon as he recovered from his fall -which was in a mere instant- Wesker stuck to the wall and kept himself lowered, keeping an intent watch on the soldiers behind them.

A bullet ricochetted off the wall right next to his ear and he would've probably lost his hearing in that ear if it had been much more sensible than it already was. Wesker was about to lean his head out when another bullet almost hit target and he retracted it so fast he was close to bumping it against the wall. He couldn't avoid swearing: knowing how the soldiers were trying to corner them and that he couldn't do much about it now got under his skin. Carrying Chris out of that place didn't help either.

As they had expected, Greene and Grant had brought more people with them, a whole team of soldiers armed with MP5s and other kind of heavy gear. With an unconscious person, a knife and a gun with its respective spare magazine, Wesker had to agree with Jill's earlier statement: they were sitting ducks, and that's what bothered him the most.

Then they heard barks, fierce and loud barks coming from behind the soldiers' ranks. Wesker, after having a short look-through, sprung to his feet and uttered an unheard curse.

"Get them!"

"Come on!" Wesker urged above the rattling of gunfire. Jill didn't hesitate a single second, ran at the same pace as him and took the lead, Wesker admitting he now had to rely on her to get out of there. They crossed a couple of doors, went through other rooms and halls, away from the danger and still knowing the soldiers were chasing them.

"What did they have there that barked so much?"

"Not a common dog, that I can assure," Wesker replied.

_They were Adjules. Who the hell has Adjules trained like that? Like we expected, Gionne's behind all this: he's after Redfield. Why do I feel I agree with his request to take him away? Ah, let's not be sarcastic._

"Let's not waste any more time," he then said.

"Wait!" Jill exclaimed as they were about to move. "Chris' medical file should be around here somewhere! It could prove useful! No reports, as I said, but this is like a godsend!"

The soldiers' voices failed to give them any chances of speaking again, and Jill proceeded to do what Wesker had done before: get a chair and lock the entrance door to buy them some time. The soldiers banged against the door, trying to knock it down.

"You've seen they're on a hurry, too. Better be quick!" Wesker urged, stretching his neck with a grimace in repulsion.

Leaving everything a bit out of place, Jill rummaged through drawers, shelves and folders for a few seconds before exclaiming a low 'Eureka' and stuffing the folder inside her black jacket as well as she could.

"Commendable quickness," Wesker remarked, his words still caustic. Jill scoffed loudly and glared daggers at him.

"I thought you knew that I'm a fast worker. Let's move."

With that, they left the room at full pelt and trotted down the hall in as much silence as they could. Indeed: like Jill had said, once Wesker looked to his right he noticed they were going past the same corridor they had avoided before, currently empty of all soldiers but the ones that were posted at their earlier position.

Just when he thought there would be a breakthrough, a moment of peace and silence and no difficulties, they were face to face with a trio of BSAA agents with their guns aimed at them. They stood motionless, watching as the newcomers approached them with wariness, and Wesker felt tempted to sigh in exasperation.

_Perfect, just what we needed._

What else could go down the pan?

"Robert, we need to get Chris out of here," Jill spoke, her tone hard and cold. "This is no time for detaining us." Jill adjusted Chris' weight against her body, fixating Robert with a steely stare.

"Especially when you have Albert Wesker by your side, right?" Robert shot back, sarcastic. With only a sideways glance, Wesker could tell how uncomfortable Jill felt when reminded of her current situation. When all of this was over, he'd have his chance of laughing; now, it wasn't the best moment to even smirk about it.

"Get out of my way," Jill ordered, but Robert merely smirked with scorn. "I'm not going to repeat myself. Besides, what do you know about what I'm going to do? Move it, I said!"

"As if you were someone to give me orders, you treacherous shrew." Jill took a small step forward but she halted when a bullet which Robert had fired hit the floor next to her foot. "I'm warning you: lay him down and step away."

Wesker cocked an eyebrow ever so slightly, finding a bit of amusement in that situation. He was enjoying studying Jill's reactions; knowing them would serve him in a not too distant future. Trying for the gesture to go unnoticed, Wesker leaned his head forward to gauge Jill's reaction this time, and he found her expression mirrored no other emotion than loathing: her eyes had narrowed and she had tensed.

_That was a blow, wasn't it?_

To his surprise, she shrugged and shook her head. "Fine, have it your way." And then, with a swift movement, Jill took up her knife and threw it in Robert's direction, hitting his chest with precision. It was like the cue Wesker needed to act: pushing Chris' arm off his shoulders, he also retrieved his gun, aimed and -to his displeasure- felt something cold grazing his cheekbone: a bullet.

_It's actually fortunate that they missed. Look at them: I must be frightening them. A dead man isn't a common sight these days, is it?_

There was no reason not to use their fear as an advantage -or maybe there was- and Wesker simply disposed of them with two more bullets, each one to their chest. The two remaining agents toppled down to the floor, their clothes becoming stained by the flowing blood. Wesker looked back at his companion, who had her gaze turned away from the scene.

"Unusual," he remarked, his tone light. Jill's head snapped up, fixating him with the same steely glare as before.

"What's unusual?"

"You didn't make a scene."

Jill's brow furrowed into a scowl, her eyes narrowing. "I'm not who you think I am, have that in mind. I hope you can cope with disappointment," she told him, fierce. "Are going to help me now or will I have to do this myself?"

Wesker simply shrugged, and he once again helped Jill carry Chris. A feeling of disgust flared up inside him and he had to use all of his remaining energy and will-power to restrain himself from killing his nemesis. He looked so fragile and precarious now that it was impossible to miss the opportunity, an opportunity he'd never _fully _had. Chris' life was in his hands: he could either leave it as it was until it strengthened again or cut the thread, Wesker had the scissors to do that.

_'Kill them both, now!'_

_Not now, they might come in handy... both of them._

_'You're making a mistake.'_

Thoughts like those kept bothering him until it was pain what struck his head and blood what he felt in the back of his throat. His stomach clenched, giving him the feeling that he'd vomit sooner than later, but the retching subsided before he even had time to worry about it. Still, the throbbing pain continued and when he swallowed back the blood, he had to bear with a shiver running down his spine. Not that he wasn't used to the sight, the smell -yet fortunately not the taste- of blood, but it had been ages since Wesker had had a glimpse of his own blood, let alone had a taste of it. So many years without bleeding had made and helped him forget what it meant to be human.

"Where should we take him now?"

The question took him off guard and it took him a few seconds to register Jill's voice. They were already out of the building, which told him that the soldier's could be there in mere moments. Knowing where to go, Wesker took a right and ran up the street as fast as he could, Jill following at his same pace.

"I have a place in mind where we'll be safe for now."

Time to get answers.

xx

"Wait, what are you doing?!" Sherry exclaimed. "Are you out of your mind? Why did you bring him here?"

There was nothing like popping up in front of someone's door. It was even more enjoyable when you got to see their reaction because they didn't expect you there, and that was the exact situation Wesker was in. This time though, there was nothing to laugh at but to be _annoyed _at. Also, this time wasn't in front of someone's door but having brought Chris to the underground laboratory near Brooklyn Bridge, and that was a big risk. What choice did he have left, though?

Wesker rolled his eyes and sighed. "There's no time for explanations now; he needs to be examined," he replied, his tone dropping the hint Sherry caught. With a hasty nod, she guided them to the laboratory where Wesker had been held before. He kept a close eye on Sherry as they walked, taking in her every move and gesture. Chris was Claire's brother: that was the only thing Sherry needed to turn her back on him.

_Of course, that wouldn't be really suitable for her. _

When they reached the room, they were quick in getting everything ready. In spite of his repulsion -something Wesker had never felt as intensely as right now- towards his enemy, he kept himself going: there was always an ulterior motive behind his actions. This time, there wasn't any _material_ end or purpose, only a purpose related to his emotions. That purpose was to see Chris suffer like never before, not only physically. Wesker wanted to see him drown in his grief when he found out what happened to him... that is, if his theories were correct.

And when it came to viruses like Uroboros, he was _never_ wrong.

The papers and miscellaneous notes were stacked upon the table, all the machines were working, all the equipment was at hand: perfect, there was nothing out of place... for now. Before getting down to work, Wesker leaned forward on the desk and heaved out a short sigh, keeping his killer sense on a leash, trying with all his might not to listen to his inner pleadings.

"Sherry, you're staying with me but do show Miss Valentine here to a room where-"

"I'm not going anywhere," Jill interrupted, crossing her arms.

"You're in no position to make requests," Wesker shot back, taking up his gun and placing its muzzle against Chris' temple, "because I can do this and more. Don't test my patience, Miss Valentine, because I am short of it as of these instants. Sherry, do as I told you... and I insist."

He didn't give Jill any time to protest with that last bit of the sentence, and Wesker noticed how she tensed and narrowed her bright eyes at him.

"Will you give me answers later?" she asked as she walked towards the door. Wesker made no attempts to get her to leave.

"Answers for what, exactly?"

"..."

It looked like rhetoric was really getting to Jill's nerves, but never mind. They remained in silence, glaring at each other with undeniable hate, until Jill said,

"We all need to know about Chris' state, especially _you_ if my observation skills don't fail me. Also, think of blue flowers; you'll know what I mean."

Before he could say anything else -something he hadn't the intention of doing- Sherry and Jill left the room, Sherry gently closing the door behind her. In the moments of silence that ensued, Wesker thought back a few hours ago and indeed remembered Jill's question.

Where had the flower come from? Only Wesker knew the answer to that question. Whoever was in the heavens -or most likely in the hells- would have to help him answer the question without making things worse.

With that, he turned his gaze back to the research notes upon the metal desk and heard Jill and Sherry leaving the laboratory room. Almost gingerly, Wesker removed his shades and glared at Chris' unconscious form, clenching both his fists.

_You'd better stop breathing soon, you bastard, or I swear I'll make sure you do._

Sherry was with him a few minutes later and she closed the door behind her without making any noise.

"I thought you would've liked to do this on your own," she said, approaching him. Wesker replied with silence and started going over his many notes, his breathing calmed in spite of the anger that threatened to show through the slightest of gestures.

"I'd need your help if the chains broke for some reason," he told her at last. "Let's get on with this... and don't keep any sharp objects out of my reach."

"You're scaring me," Sherry replied, unmoving. Wesker couldn't avoid a smirk.

"I knew I would, but I'm dead serious. Whatever happens, _don't_ keep them away."

xx

In an overwhelming silence, Jill was waiting inside the room Sherry had taken her to, currently sitting on a leather armchair with her elbows on her knees. Impatience and anxiety were getting the best of her and with a good reason, a very good one. She'd seen the killer gleam in Wesker's eyes and even though he was -to her surprise- willing to help her in figuring out if Chris would be alright or not, Jill doubted Wesker would hold himself back with Chris in such a state of helplessness.

Wasn't there anything she could do? Not right now of course: her earlier reaction had proven to be a mistake. For another reason, aside from Wesker's and Chris' hate toward each other, Jill knew Wesker was losing patience and his cool head. There was something that kept him tense and anxious; she had already noticed it when they had witnessed the black pustule emerging from Chris' flesh. How he'd spoken, how he'd told her Chris wasn't going to die... was it because Uroboros was surviving the adaptation process and had chosen him as a viable host? Was it because Chris was one of those 'superior humans' Wesker had always talked about?

_Imagine if that happened... I wouldn't know if to rejoice or be desperate. Whilst it would affect Wesker, it would also affect me; it'd be horrible. _

Jill laid back on the seat, releasing a sigh. As she stared at the ceiling, she felt the familiar sting of tears at her eyes but there were none to cry. Maybe it was because her eyes were getting dry, maybe because she indeed felt like crying, but she knew that they wouldn't leave her eyes no matter how hard she tried. If there was no feeling, there was no manifestation of it.

All of a sudden she realized how tired she was, thanks to the involuntary closing of her eyes. Jill snapped awake with a harsh movement of her head, berating herself inwardly for allowing herself to do that, but she couldn't help it. The tension of those last few hours had taken its toll on her. Forcing herself not to resist, she fell into a light yet powerful slumber.

XX

_Jill had tried countless times to resist, to fight, to escape, but to no avail. It wasn't only the material restraints that were put on her but the mental ones too. She had this constant, pulsating paranoia and fear of everything going down the pan whenever she tried to make her escape, even though it was more than obvious and destined to happen like that with Wesker around keeping an intent watch on her. It was a fear that blocked all other thoughts and emotions; she could only think about escaping but, at the same time, it seemed impossible for her to do so. _

"Please, just... d-don't..." s_he'd begged once, yet it had worsened her situation. The more she asked for everything to end, no matter aloud or inside her mind, the suffering persisted and became more unbearable. Not only because of the irony and the physical torture but also because of the grief and the guilt; many times had been the ones when those feelings had driven her close to breaking down and bursting into tears. Gamely, Jill had held them back, even though it was more than noticeable. _

_A scream tore through her lips as the cables of the device penetrated the blood vessels of her chest, sending more waves of pain throughout her body. Her breathing became agitated, quickened with every second that went by, and she writhed in pain as she attempted to break free from her restraints. With every movement came a scream or a grunt, all so loud Jill felt her throat going sore; with every moment, her body became someone else's property, all because of the chemical being administered. She couldn't fight against it._

_A hand closed its grip around her hair, making her bite her lip and release a muffled cry of pain and despair, knowing very well who was with her. Not Excella, who had been in charge of keeping her healthy and strong, but Wesker... who had been in charge of driving her closer to the edge of sanity's cliff. _

"_...a while longer..." she heard him say, but just bits of the sentence. She felt him yank at her blonde tresses and she snapped her head to one side to try and get the grip to loosen. Wesker pulled even harder, so much Jill thought he'd tear off most of her hair. _

_A while longer? How much was 'a while', exactly? How much would she be able to take? How long until the glass shattered, scattering its pieces which would be impossible to reunite again? _

_How long?_

XX

Jill jolted awake, shooting up from her seat and standing up, her breathing quick and nervous. Then, she closed her eyes again, running a hand through her hair and taking the other to her chest, where the device had been. Nothing had happened, it had only been a dream.

_Another of those dreams which are a pain in the ass... My God, they won't leave me alone..._

She took a quick look around the room. Nothing had changed, it didn't even seem anybody had been there; she didn't hear anything, all seemed to be calm and in place. Out of instinct, Jill stretched and rubbed her neck, wincing at an unwelcome stiffness and suppressing a yawn. She considered going to the lab and checking up on Chris, but who knew what would happen if she didn't comply to Wesker's request of being alone? It wasn't worth risking it: he was the one with the upper hand now.

It was then when she noticed a small note lying upside-down at her feet. Curious, she picked it up, only to find four words written down in a neat, italics handwriting. Jill frowned at the message, as it read

_The language of flowers._

so what could it be referring to? The language of flowers... What did it point to?

Just after the thought had crossed her mind, Jill heard a distant scream in what she thought that was terror and without thinking it twice, she stormed out of the room and headed towards the lab. She thought of entering but then decided against it and remained beside the door in silence. Jill had a look inside through the small round window, and what she found inside was the most shocking of surprising as of yet.

Sherry had her back turned to the door and was standing in front of Wesker, whose face Jill compared to the mirror of his soul. His hands shot up to clasp his own hair, his blue eyes widening as he stared up front.

"This shouldn't be happening..." Jill heard him say and her gut clenched in dread.

_No... please no..._

What Jill considered the most frightening thing of all was the gleam in Wesker's gaze, the gleam of the emotion she had thought non-existent for him, the emotion which had been a so unknown concept for Wesker and she knew he'd forbidden himself to feel.

That emotion was _fear._

xx

A few hours crawled by since Jill's visit to the laboratory. After witnessing Wesker's short fit of rage, she knew better than to remain there and ask what had happened. She knew it well: something terrible had transpired. Wesker had made a discovery that had even left him shocked to the point of becoming enraged so Jill had no doubt that once she heard about it, she wouldn't be able to cope with it.

After those hours went by and Jill had become used to the room she'd been lent, she heard two soft knocks on her door. Before replying, Jill did her best to keep her demeanour that of a calm person, but oh how very difficult it was with the continuous trembling of her hands.

"Yes?"

When her reply cut through the silence, the door was pushed open and inside stepped Wesker and Sherry, and Jill's gut clenched again, this time with much more strength. Upon examining Wesker's features, Jill didn't know if to think he was distressed, he was faking it, if he was both or none. When he spoke, a gasp escaped Jill's lips.

"There hasn't been a rejection."

* * *

_A/N: No rejection? Then that's not good, is it now? Yes, the whole plot has been set on the table: now you're in for the development. I promise it'll be a sweet ride, because I wouldn't have 109 pages of this story if there wasn't any development throughout this story, eh? Alright, keep a close eye on Tuesday's update: it'll turn the spotlight on Jill and Wesker. _

Reviews are appreciated!^^_  
_


	11. Chapter XI: Melody Of A Nightmare

**Author's Note:** Here you go, new chapter. In this one, we finally get to know what's happened to Chris (although you can pretty much expect it) and last, but not least, we'll get wind of what kind of plans Marco Gionne is cooking; also, you get to know how he looks like and, as I mentioned in the previous chapter, Janssen's and Greene's role in this story. Enjoy! Don't hesitate to leave any constructive criticism, by the way, but no flames, please.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs**

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XI

Melody of a Nightmare

_'Whom men fear they hate, and whom they hate, they wish dead.' Quintus Ennius_

_Isn't it difficult to accept the truth? Yes, especially when you expect it and you don't expect it at the same time._

_There was no way he could hold himself back. Above Sherry's pleads, without listening to even _himself, _Wesker grabbed the sharpest object he had at hand and inflicted a long, horizontal gash along Chris' chest, watching how the blood seeped through the large wound and stained his ashen face, but that amount of the crimson substance was not enough: he had to see much more. To his horror, the flesh knit itself together again with rattling wet sounds, forming a black line that faded away within seconds. _

_Regaining a bit of rational thinking, Wesker threw the scalpel against the wall with all the force he could muster before he saw himself as a maniacal killer with no purpose. He stepped away from Chris, forcing himself to calm down and adopt his natural cold demeanour once more, but with the horrible truth still in his mind the task was impossible to accomplish. Please, why would he lose his cool and give in into anger in a moment like this?_

_Because Wesker had the right to be furious this time._

"_This shouldn't be happening... This shouldn't be happening!!" With no consideration of the pain that would follow next, he slammed his fists on the table, feeling how a part of his rage disappeared and was replaced by ridiculous helplessness. "Isn't there _anything_ I can do against this?!"_

"_Wesker...?" Sherry uttered, her tone ginger. Wesker knew better than to snap at her, so he took a few moments before replying with a calmer tone. _

"_There hasn't been a rejection," he explained, attempting to keep his anger at bay. "Uroboros is merging, it's continuing to blend with his DNA. The adaptation was instant... He has the DNA of the humans I was looking for..."_

_Speak about irony, huh?_

"_Good God..." _

_Good _Satan_ would be more appropriate, that's what Wesker would say! Was this the way it was supposed to be: no matter how hard he tried, Chris would always survive one way or another?! If that was the case, it was pointless to keep fighting! Chris would be as good as invincible if the adaptation process was successful until the point of being utterly perfect! _

"_I'm surprised you can still say that, Sherry," Wesker uttered, "because I think there's no-one that can and wants to hear you."_

xx

"Wait, what?!" Jill exploded, her voice filled with horror. "Are you saying Chris is a viable host?" Wesker pulled a small grimace, hating to be reminded of the morbid surprise... even though he had speculated about that.

"Believe me, I still can't quite digest it," he said, folding his arms across his chest. "You've told me he was infected two weeks ago approximately; well, during this period of time, Uroboros has continued to multiply within him and it's kept adapting itself to his genetic sequence. There's no stopping it now; we'd kill him if we attempted to do something against the process."

Jill lowered her head, releasing a heavy sigh, all whilst Wesker watched her. There was a positive side to all of this, now that he realized, even though it was a very difficult side to see. It could all be summed up into one word and one word only: irony, irony of the most cruel of ironies. Of course: whilst it had been a hard blow for Wesker to see how his nemesis was still alive and kicking, he could also find wicked pleasure in that. How would Chris react when he regained consciousness again and saw what the virus had done to him? It was ironic to see he was becoming that against which he had fought his whole life.

"What can happen during the bonding process?" came Jill's question.

"That's something that slipped my mind during the research, and with a good reason," Wesker replied, frustrated. "I didn't come across any viable subject in all the experiments I carried out, so this is only a matter of observation. He's been the exception. What I can guarantee is that he's not going to die, not yet."

"Is it possible to estimate how long the process can take?" Sherry asked, intervening at last. "This virus is much different than T or G or any kind of variant strain, and it certainly isn't like the virus my father gave you." The bitter memory came to Wesker's mind.

_Oh yes, the infamous Progenitor experimental strain..._

"That's correct, but we still can't estimate it."

"So it's a matter of waiting?" Sherry questioned, although it sounded more like a statement. Wesker nodded, catching sight of Jill lowering her head again, crestfallen.

"Anything can happen," he said, getting her attention. She met his gaze with a cold, impassive one of her own, something that Wesker found somewhat quaint.

Since having remembered everything about Chris and her, he could say he knew Jill like the back of his hand. In spite of that, and in fact having in mind that was an optimistic and resolute individual, he couldn't say the same about her now. Sure, the fact that Chris was undergoing severe and ironic changes was still hard to accept, but the gleam in her eyes told Wesker it wasn't only because of that. Her hues were almost dull and tired, yet they were still intense and gleamed with derision and the undying hatred she felt towards him.

All of a sudden, Wesker felt as if his head had been shaken and banged against the floor many times, dizziness and pain coming in as a harsh wave. It clicked, and he cursed inwardly when he realized why the unhealthy condition. At the same time, Sherry checked her wristwatch and her expression was then one of surprise as she lifted her head at him.

"It seems you've read my mind," Wesker said, not avoiding the hints of amusement.

"I'll go get it," Sherry said with a nod. "We can't afford skipping a dose." After that, she was gone from the room in a dash, leaving Wesker and Jill in an uncomfortable silence. Then, she broke it with a light chuckle as she stood up and walked a few steps away from him.

"It seems you're getting a bit sloppy now," she remarked, caustic. Wesker shrugged like nothing was wrong.

"Everyone has their time, don't you think?" he said, casual. This wasn't the Jill he had known for so long; regardless of the past, she wasn't the same.

_'You think as if you had been with her her whole life. Nothing far from the truth though, but you get my drift.'_

"Strange words; I thought being in this kind of condition was something you couldn't afford... So, what's going to happen after this? Are you going to make me stay here, again like when you kept me in captivity?" she then questioned, turning half-way to face him. "Is this another game in which I'm the pawn by default?"

"A pawn? You amuse me, but I see you have caught the concept correctly," Wesker replied, his tone light. "So far, it's like that: I can use you now, but I know you'll use me as well. Why waste the chance? And returning to the earlier question, where can you go, I ask? If you return to you earlier residence, it'll be a risky move and you'll endanger your life, not to mention Redfield's. You know everything it'll imply... and I believe there's no point in risking your dear friend's life."

Jill sighed, averting her gaze.

"Why am I not surprised? I suppose you'll have me under your watch at all times?"

"Interesting. What makes you think I would?"

"Well, you're someone who likes having everything and everyone under his control," Jill stated naturally. "You're always well-prepared; it wouldn't be a surprise."

"I'd take that as a compliment, if that was your intention," Wesker half-teased, knowing the casualty of his tone would be getting to her nerves sooner or later. Jill responded to his remark with a stone silence and a piercing gaze.

"I won't say that it was or that it wasn't; take it as you like."

Wesker cracked a smirk that belied his inner wish to step over to her and strangle her, to throw her aside with all the strength he had, to see her suffer again. He wasn't going to put up with her snappy attitude, although time rewarded the patient -not always in the best way, but it did after all. Wesker knew that he just had to wait.

"Say, have you thought of the answers I asked for?" Jill piped up, tilting her head to one side.

"Indeed I have, but now it's not the time to share them," he replied. "We've had our share of tension today and I'd recommend listening to them whenever your head is a bit clearer."

"Let me guess: you're avoiding the subject?" inquired Jill, crossing her arms. "'never thought you would avoid something, since you always want everything done the sooner, the better."

"Careful with what you say, Miss Valentine, although I do have to agree with that last sentence. Even so, I also mentioned the word 'bargain' a few hours ago: care for another one?"

Silence reigned between them, a heavy yet comfortable silence -at least, it was for him. Not hearing her answer right away told him she was having a hard time -_Oh, really now?_- making her choice, despite there were not many options available. Agreeing or not agreeing, that was the question on which everything depended.

"It's the only way I'm getting the answers out of you, so I agree," Jill said at last, shrugging her shoulders and accepting the obviousness of the situation.

_She's a bit more reckless than I remember her to be. Well, she's got Redfield's life as what she can bet and more, so I don't think she'd senselessly risk that. She's getting into serious trouble... and so am I._

"Let's make it like this," Wesker started, "so it's fair for both of us: it'll be an answer for a question, from me to you, from you to me; as simple as that."

"Looks like simplicity's the only card you're playing," she retorted, keeping a close eye on him.

"For now, it is. I don't wish to complicate things more than necessary; besides, the easiest things are, the less possibility of failure _you_ have," he said, spreading his palms. "We have to play for keeps now, both you and me."

Jill sighed once again, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I can't believe I'm bargaining with you..."

"You don't have a choice."

"_Wrong_, I still have it," Jill replied, the promptness surprising Wesker for a brief moment.

"What choice would that be? I'm waiting for the answer, and I hope it convinces me."

_And here comes an inevitable speech from someone who detests losing. Comes in three, two, one..._

"I still have a choice to make, although not one that can suit me. There's always a choice: I could tell you to go to hell and risk Chris' life in exchange for leaving my pride untarnished, but that wouldn't be the correct one, that wouldn't be the one that's... ethical, if we were to put it like that. It's always been because of personal interest, hasn't it?"

_The speech never fails to come. Predictable..._

"Ethical, you say?" Wesker echoed, smirking.

Jill scoffed. "I never thought you'd understand the concept, so I'm not surprised. Ethics and morals don't apply to you." Her response made Wesker widen his smirk.

"Which is why I have a much different vision of the world."

Jill rolled her eyes. "Sure you do: that vision is nothing far from a psycho's."

"Feisty, aren't you?" Wesker said with a chuckle. "How do you see the world: from a subjective or an objective point of view? Opinions, which are guided by emotions, always have some influence in our ways of thinking. Even so... I'm not in the mood to continue this conversation although it has been interesting. We should bring up the topic another time."

"Do you really think I'll keep a normal conversation with you?" Jill blurted out, her voice almost shaking with disbelief and rage. "You, out of all people?"

Wesker sighed, shaking his head. "Oh, I'm most certain you will." Jill's eyes were ablaze with loathing.

"You're insane."

To his own surprise -and most important, to Jill's- Wesker let out another chuckle that was close to a laugh.

"Haven't I heard that many times... Allow me to tell you this: insanity is the only sane reaction to an insane world, much to the sane's dislike."

xx

**August 5th, 2009**

**Naples, Italy**

David Janssen gave out a loud sigh, rubbing his left eye with tiredness as he crossed the doorway and entered a large quadrangular hall with expensive decorations and a floor of pristine, cream tiles. The hall, if his memory served him well, was decorated with 19th century Italianate style, with beautiful cream-coloured columns, bronze Corinthian and Dorian capitals and flower-themed patterns in the ceilings and in the architraves. A grand staircase climbed up the room before him, carpeted with a deep crimson rug. David smirked: Marco Gionne really had taste, something expected from such a high-ranking and prestigious person.

"You're early," said Greene's voice as she emerged from behind a column. David smiled at her.

"Trying to scare me, weren't you?" he teased, approaching his friend. As he did, he noticed her expression was weary and her bright brown eyes appeared troubled and uneasy. "Is there something wrong, Maria?"

She nodded, not making eye contact. "There is. I'm really, _really_ nervous, David. I can't help it." David's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Oh, you mean because of what happened a couple of days ago in NYC?" he inquired and he received a nod from Maria as a response, which made him chuckle. "Daw, you shouldn't get so worked up!"

"But you know how Gionne's like!" Maria shot back in a furious hiss, giving him a light kick in the shin. "I-I should've been able to-"

David silenced his red-haired friend lying an amiable hand on her shoulder. "It'll be fine, you'll see. Besides, it's not like you knew they would be there; you were just doing your job, and you were doing it alright," he told her as gently as he could. "You know me: I would be even worse if I was in your position, but you have to realize that even though you _might_ have been a bit careless, their presence in the room was the root of the problem. It'll get solved, don't worry."

David smirked, rubbing Maria's upper arm in a kind gesture. He and Maria had known each other since their early years at university, their friendship evolving into a strong bond within time. What had surprised David had been that none of them had attempted to give the step beyond friendship; right now, both of them were thirty-two and still nothing. David didn't want any kind of problems, especially not with a work like his was, but he somehow missed and sometimes needed to show more than amiable smiles to Maria.

After the deal in Naples, they had both made a change of plans and sought to work with Marco. The Gionne, being the busy and ambitious man he was, accepted their offer without hesitation. Loosing Ivanov, Mikhail and Arturo had dealt a blow to Tricell's business, so David and Maria filled in the vacant spots. In just two weeks they became Marco's most trusted co-workers, since they had carried out with success exchanges with Sherry Birkin's company Rho Biological. The exchanges had been mostly samples for money and vice versa. They both knew the time for retribution would come soon.

"You always knew how to comfort someone," Maria said at last, giving him a sheepish nudge with her shoulder. David shrugged, his smile vanishing.

"Oh well, that's me. Although I never expected to be of use to anyone, not work-related that is."

"David!"

"I'm serious, Maria," David insisted with a stern look. "You know how everything was back at university... and yeah, that still haunts my thoughts a bit. In any case, even though it's been more than fifteen years since that, it's not like it's going to disappear any time soon." He sighed, feeling again his self-esteem a bit lower than usual.

"Don't be like that; I hate it." Maria turned her gaze away from his, crossing her arms for a moment before shrugging. "Come on, let's see if-"

A soft sound coming from the door interrupted Maria, and they both turned to see who was making their entrance. Without a doubt, David expected a knot to form in his stomach and Maria to gasp. Both things happened: Marco Gionne had just stepped through the door.

Marco Gionne was twenty-two years old, three years his sister's junior. His skin was paler than usual, the tone making his light grey eyes to stand out from the rest of his fine chiselled features and giving them an intense, fierce gleam. He was also thin, maybe beyond normalcy, something that could be very well seen in the sharpness of his jawbone and the shadows at his cheekbones.

The colour of his hair ranged between very dark brown and black, and it was arranged in a neat fashion with only some locks falling in front of the right side of his forehead and almost reaching under his eyebrow. What gave him an air of mysteriousness was the thin, black-rimmed glasses he sported and his clothes, which were dark with the exception of a grey shirt that was visible from under his V-neck black sweater. David had expected to see him carrying a long, stylish trench coat but he was disappointed; Marco was carrying a plain corduroy jacket, also black.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here so soon," said Marco with a greeting smile. To David's surprise, Maria replied to his remark.

"We don't like making others wait. It's also good to have a small time margin." Her tone was still a bit hesitant but David could see Maria was starting to calm down. Marco answered with a nod, approaching the pair of dealers with lithe movements.

"That's something you don't see every day, this habit of yours," he then told them, firmly shaking hands. "Come, let's go somewhere a bit more comfortable." With that, Maria and David followed Marco up the stairs and travelled through a few halls. David's initial suspcions were confirmed: this was Italianate.

"If you don't mind me pointing this out, Mr. Gionne, I hope this isn't a public place. Your face isn't neither a common or a pretty sight lately, no offense meant," David posed, ginger. Whilst Maria shot him a reproaching look -to which David replied with a shrug-, Marco gave a light laugh.

"You do well in remarking that, Mr. Janssen, and don't worry; you're absolutely right about the sight of me. This isn't a public place, no; in fact, it's devoid of life... since it's closed." David rolled his eyes in surprise, knowing better than to keep going with the conversation. By some reason, he had the sensation Marco had dropped a hint and even if it had been like that or not, David wasn't risking it.

Eventually they crossed a sturdy oak door and went inside a lavish study room, full of shelves and cabinets that contained books and other knickknacks -not so much, though- like small porcelain vases and bookends. Right in front of them there was a large and antique oak desk with a few stacks of papers, a small desk lamp and miscellaneous objects David didn't pay much attention to.

"What's this matter you wanted to discuss with us?" Maria asked as she removed her coat. David didn't do as her, only remained looking at Marco whilst he made himself comfortable on his seat. He motioned at them to sit and they complied, watching as he reached inside a drawer, pulled a small vial out and placed it upon the table. It contained a solution of a blackish substance and a transparent liquid, somehow reminding David of how water and oil didn't mix. Also, David frowned when he recognized it.

"It's the Uroboros sample Sashko brought me through you, Mr. Janssen," said Marco, seriousness traceable in his light voice. "I've contacted Rho's CEO Sherry Bristow -or Birkin for friends- and told her about my 'plans'. Needless to say, she bought them."

"What did you tell her?" David inquired.

"That I was to look for a full-fledged specimen to experiment with, and since I know of Chris Redfield's recent infection, I decided to use that to my advantage," Marco replied, casual. "I have someone else I want to take care of now; he's not that important at the moment. Oh, Maria, I know why you look so uneasy: because of the assignment in NYC, correct?"

David glanced at Maria, whose breath had caught and had blushed. "Yes, sir." It was then when David noticed the bruise at her left temple; something had really gone wrong there.

To their surprise, Marco smiled. "There's no need to worry. If I tell you the truth, I wasn't aiming for you to succeed in retrieving Redfield. It was all because I wanted to distract Miss Birkin. I must say that it was a mere move; I apologize."

David was surprised: a Gionne, apologizing? That was sort of odd, knowing Excella had never pronounced those words. Well, Marco was different from Excella in many ways; he had to show that some time, didn't he?

"I... I lost Grant there and I received a blow which rendered me unconscious, and let's not forget the bullet to my leg. Are you sure it'll go unpunished?" she asked, ginger. Marco chuckled.

"Why would I punish you?" he pointed out. "I know that has been my responsibility and I accept it. The one who should pay for that is me and I know I will, eventually. Don't worry, Miss Greene, it's not your fault." This brought a faint smile to Maria's face and she nodded again, David watching with a smile of his own.

"You found someone there, didn't you?" Marco asked then.

"Who did she send, Maria?" David asked.

"Albert Wesker was there, along with Jill Valentine," she replied. "I recognized Valentine from hearing her name and her physical description. You know she was a topic of conversation after the whole outbreak in Kijuju."

"Valentine I can understand, but wasn't Wesker dead?" David exclaimed. "I mean, he was officially declared dead the 13th of March, don't you remember?"

"I was sent a report about that," Marco intervened, his eyes narrowed and his brow creased. "Are you sure it was him?" Maria seemed confused and insecure, and nodded hastily.

"I... I wouldn't lie to you, sir!" she replied, her nervousness getting the best of her. At this, Marco raised a hand.

"Please, Miss Greene, we're nervous enough as it is already; there's no need for more tension," he chastised, not unkindly. "Hm... Birkin must've had something to do with that; it's the only way to explain it."

"Well, sir," David piped up, "we've been working as dealers for a very long time, and many times I've heard about the rivalry between Wesker and Sherry's father, William Birkin. They were really close, so it's not far-fetched to assume she has brought Wesker back out of some personal reason."

Marco frowned, pensive. "I'd like to assume that we'll get information about that soon. I still have my personal vendetta with Wesker."

"It's all about revenge now, sir," Maria said, also frowning. "What do you recommend we do?"

"For now, I'll contact James," Marco replied. "I need to know more of Wesker's status if I want to kill him... and Redfield's too, although it's not the same with him. Who knows? They both might be useful in the future." He made a short pause, closing his eyes. "We still have to wait; it's too soon to make another move... even though patience has never been one of my best traits."

Marco stood up from his seat, so did Maria and David, and the Gionne exhaled sharply. "Let's get back to work again. Mr. Janssen, Miss Greene, I want you to listen with care: it's very possible that Birkin will request more samples from us, and it'll be more likely now that she knows we have Uroboros in our hands. You will be the usual intermediate, Mr. Janssen, so I want you to cancel every single request she makes. Once she bites back, it'll be my turn to intervene.

"In the meantime, I'll have James collect as much data as he can: notes, documents, everything he can find, about Wesker's and Redfield's status. I'll do my best to get back Wesker's notes on Uroboros; the research will start soon. With James around, they won't suspect us; at least, not a lot."

"Understood, sir," said Maria and David at the unison. Marco flashed a smile.

"Soon we'll see if this works out. I'll get my hands on them both, I swear it."

David frowned a bit, clenching his jaw. Serious cooperation with Marco wasn't in his agenda.

He had someone else whom he had to be working for.

xx

It rained, that night of the fifth of August.

Every night he could, Wesker always took his time to go up to the rooftop of the building that concealed the laboratory's position and stay there for countless hours before deciding to go back. It was tiring to spend the whole day hidden several metres underground without seeing the light of day not even once. Not that he needed to see it, but not doing so proved to be a bit claustrophobia-inducing... especially now that Chris was in the same building as him.

As strange and as almost senseless as it was, Wesker couldn't kill his nemesis now.

All matters concerning physical capabilities aside, Wesker knew that it all concerned the _mental_ ones. Stupidly enough, he had come to think that if he indeed killed Chris, there would be nothing else for him to do... a thought that he'd erased as soon as it had come up. It was also because of his interests, since it was all an inevitable cycle: killing Chris would mean killing Jill and, even though he was quite confident of his own abilities, there was a downside to the whole matter.

That he was human again. And humans all had weaknesses; there was no exception.

When he had remembered how close he had been to victory, Wesker had to deal with the greatest surge of anger he'd ever felt. Because of the man known as Chris Redfield, he lost everything he had in his possession not only once and it was not what was material alone. The first time, his humanity -even though he'd found an upside to that-, his plans, his future; the second, what was most important of all: his divinity, his closeness to being a god.

But that didn't make any sense now. Possibly, Wesker could find some sense to his humanity, maybe with more correct terms, _semi-_humanity. It was all a matter of patience, persistence and strength, three qualities he had more than anyone else in the world.

"This has always been a nice place to be at night," Sherry said behind him. With no words to say, Wesker only hummed a response and gave an inaudible sigh, feeling Sherry sitting down beside him. Being in her company was the sole thing as of those weeks that made him be at ease.

"Tell me something," she then said, "Is that woman important to you in some way?"

_What are you trying to find out, Miss Birkin?_

"She's not," Wesker replied at once, "yet it's best if she stays here." He had felt tempted for a second to turn his head at her, but he soon decided against that.

"You look troubled. Is there something wrong?"

_And there we go_, Wesker thought,_ having a taste of my own medicine. If she can read me, I wonder who will escape her eyes._

"I'd rather not speak about her, that's all," he said, watching how Sherry lowered her head.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Curiosity it's all but unnatural," he pointed out, dismissing her apology. "Although, if I can be honest with you, I'm somewhat uneasy... and it's hard to cope with it; this time it's different."

"You still don't get used, do you?" Sherry remarked with a smile. "I admit it's not easy, but it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Aw, c'mon, not everything is disadvantages; you should know that," she posed. "Sure, emotions are difficult to understand, they might drive people to do something reckless -which many times happens- but, at the same time, it's what keeps them from doing so. Besides, I think you're not a psychopath, like others say and you yourself have admitted just to scare them."

Wesker smirked, this time looking at her. "William said something like that once."

"Really? How come?" Sherry asked, wrapping her arms around her legs and gazing at him with curiosity. Many had been the times when Wesker had told Sherry about her father; some of them she had accepted what Wesker had said, others she had completely refused to believe it. In spite of that, her eagerness to know better about her family had never faltered.

"He once managed to make me laugh; he had a good sense of humour... whenever he liked to show it, of course. Still, as you might understand, those weren't the best times to let your guard down."

In that moment, Wesker was a bit surprised to see how naturally he'd told Sherry about that and not because it was something he avoided to talk about, but because up until now he hadn't thought that memory would still exist. Eventually, he heard Sherry give a loud laugh in disbelief.

"You laughed? For real?" she inquired, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of his face. Wesker cocked an eyebrow.

"It's not unnatural, is it?"

This made Sherry laugh again, something he knew she hadn't done in a very long time. After calming her good-natured laughter, Sherry looked at him again. "My God, who are you and what have you done to Albert Wesker?"

"Nothing," Wesker replied with a shrug. "I'm still myself, remember?" Sherry's features mellowed, her lips curving into a warm smile. Wesker shook his head, tearing his gaze away from the typical 'Birkin soft smile' he'd many times seen plastered on his long-time friend's face.

"Even though you feel the change?" Wesker didn't reply at once, not with words at least. At last, he stood up and glanced down at Sherry, whom he found still smiling at him.

"Yes," he said, "even though I feel it."

* * *

_A/N: Another brief glimpse at the relationship between Wesker and Sherry here at the end. So, Chris might make it out of this, Wesker and Jill obviously don't see eye to eye yet (yet! xD), Marco's up and running along with David and Maria (although David probably has some other plans in mind), and we also get another glimpse at the doubts that are going through Wesker's mind- well, maybe not doubts, but obvious uneasiness. And let me explain why (you see, I don't care about the length of the author's note if there's something important to explain)._

_As I specified in the previous chapter, everything has to have a price, and you also found out about this in the diary entry of Wesker's a few chapters back. Although he knows he's still himself, the price he's paid has been a rather odd change to his mentality, and this will affect him completely, even in the most strangest of quirks he has. Don't worry, he won't cease to be the cold-hearted and sometimes sadistic villain we all know him to be, but not as much as he was before. Oh, you're also in for a bit of a treat in the next chapter: Sherry will give us some explanations as to why and how he's been brought back, okay? Don't fret: everything in due time._

_Reviews are appreciated!^^  
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	12. Chapter XII: Reason III: Existence

**Author's Note: **Updates are here! And it brings the explanations I guess you've been craving for. I'm not saying anything, I'll leave you to read what happens. Also getting some info on how Chris is faring, some surprising revelations and another bit of development on Jill's mental state towards the matter. A turn for the better, a turn for the worst? Read to find out!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs**

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XII

Reason III: Existence

_'Observe your enemies, for they first find out your faults.' Anthistenes_

_Her voice sounded so distant, so faint, like a deafening cacophony. His vision was still spinning and blurry, his body felt like the heaviest rock in the world, and he felt as if his brain had been disconnected from his body. He had only regained awareness, he soon understood, but not mobility; he was still bound by numbness' shackles and there was no way he could break free of them. _

_Whose voice had he heard in some corner of his mind? It was so very familiar, a sweet and caring tone he hadn't heard in a very long time. Had it really been like that though? Had he really spent that long without hearing her, without hearing anything? When had been the last time since she had _seen_ her, for that matter? He felt tempted to remember, to smile when remembering her image. _

_Something was wrong though._

_And Chris convulsed in agony._

xx

_**July 20th, 2009**_

_STATUS REPORT: 'Project 1960/013'._

_Date of initiation: March 13th, 20XX_

_Date of completion: July 20th, 20XX._

_Subject: Name unspecified._

_Viral agents: G-virus Beta stain Gb847, PG/013._

_Injection result: Successful. _

_Condition: Bonding process successful. Serum A-PG/013 to be administered regularly during initial phases of adaptation, which can cause instability. Beta Hetero Nonserotonin levels stable and under 7% of the expected 14%. _

_Subject status: **Alive**._

XX

**August 6th, 2009**

"So that's what you did..."

Jill took a moment to tear her gaze away from the report and looked at Wesker, whom to her surprise had apparently forgotten of wearing his usual sunglasses.

_Or maybe it's been intentional? Nah, no way in hell he'd make it intentional._

Dispatching that stupid thought, she shook her head a bit and crossed her arms after leaving the stapled sheets upon the desk. Attempting for her intentions to go unnoticed, she examined his eyes with extreme care, taking in every detail that could help her in the future. She wasn't disappointed when the gleam in his eyes told her nothing; they were still blocked by an ice wall... if _they_ weren't the ice wall already.

_'I can use you now, but I know you'll use me as well...'_

His words still rang in her ears, words that aroused doubt. How would she be able to use him? In what way? Perhaps it was asking for the impossible, but it was better not to force things. Everything in due time, as it was usually said.

"We tried not to mess up, as you might understand," Sherry said, allowing a bit of humour. "It was a long and complicated process, but one worth the time."

"How did you recover me? The last thing I remember is..."

When Wesker didn't finish the sentence, Jill's head perked up and she stared more intently at him: was it true he didn't remember? Had he lost some of his memories? Her assumptions were gone the same moment they came, but they stayed in the back of her mind as she found herself unable to banish them from her mind.

"Pain; that's the last thing I felt," he finally said, the statement making the tension rise.

Before replying, Sherry pursed her lips. "I believe you'd need to have in mind a bit of background to understand that. You mightn't have noticed yet, Wesker, but this is an underground complex _that belongs_ to the world's second largest company, Rho Biological."

"I wasn't born yesterday, let me remind you," the person in question replied, edgy. Sherry rolled her eyes, sighing in exasperation.

"Alright, alright, maybe you did notice the first fact. Just making sure."

"Wasn't Rho Biological one of the companies that belonged the Consortium?" Jill intervened.

"Uh-hm," Sherry hummed with a nod, "it is indeed. That is how we could keep track of your activities with Tricell... although I have to say I wasn't really fond of them." Jill rolled her eyes at Sherry's remark, almost scoffing.

_Heh, who would be fond of them aside from Excella, someone as crazy as him?_

"So all this time I was competing against you, too? It was true that Tricell was in quite the tense relationship with Rho Biological, but I didn't imagine it was you who was pulling the strings of the company," said Wesker, and Sherry shrugged.

"You learn all you can, don't you? But really, I didn't see it fit to intervene and, if you want me to be honest, I'm not fond of the idea of developing bio-weapons either," she replied, emphasizing the last bit with a grimace. "I also have to say that I wasn't aiming to stop you."

"You weren't aware of what I was doing, that I assume?" Sherry shook her head, silent, and Wesker shrugged. "The less you know, the better; one less problem I have to deal with. So you were after Excella?"

"Yes. Even though companies like 'The Agency' were aware of Tricell's activities and the bio-weapon development branch working at full pelt, our role was a bit different. I decided to take the... the peaceful path, to put it like that? Though that path doesn't exist, I tried to imagine I was doing the right thing.

"As I was trying to explain before, I, along with another group of people, decided to go on a small 'recon' trip around Kijuju and the nearby zones; our tense relationship with Tricell had to be because of something, right? We stumbled across the volcano after a few hours. When we found you, we saw all signs of having been burned and such... but we didn't find you inside the volcano, but _outside_. You were lying unconscious at the foot of a steep slope."

Jill frowned, memorizing all pieces of vital information.

_He... he made it out of the volcano on his own? Good God...  
_

Wesker made no comments towards Sherry's words and kept silent, looking as if he was slowly digesting everything she'd said. Jill decided to ask a question herself, decided against it, and then settled for it and went to ask it. This time, she didn't stop herself.

"What about the treatment? The changes to his body have been scant; only the scars are present." Sherry's features mellowed somewhat.

"That you'd have to thank my father, and it's also a bit ironical."

"Are you referring to the experimental strain?" asked Wesker.

Sherry nodded, serene, but she shifted her stance.

"'Even in death, as long as some portion of the host remains, the virus can reconstruct the rest of its body and bring it back to life. During this process, there is a brief period where the host appears, for all intents and purposes, dead'. I memorized everything in that letter, every single sentence. It was the most important thing of all I had."

"It's a bit ironical, yes, but I'm used to it. What almost killed me has done the opposite... It wasn't unexpected," said Wesker with slight nonchalance. Jill made a mental note: experimental strain? "_What almost killed me has done the opposite..."_? Did it concern any regenerative abilities of some sort? And if that was the case, was Wesker referring to the virus that gave him his inhuman abilities?

"What about G? What's this new strain?" he then asked. "And how come you found that note? I made sure it fell in no-one's hands except mine." Sherry left her hands inside her pockets, a humble smirk spreading across her young features.

"Remember the many times that, as a fifteen year old, I didn't dare to go out of my room nor I wanted you to come in?" she asked with a small laugh. "It was because of that: I had taken some of your notes of the G-virus and was researching on my own. I found about the positive effects and the huge negative ones, and I specifically focused on the regenerative ability the virus granted the cells. When I modified the sample I had inside my locket, I was able to bring out that sole effect and apply it to this investigation. There were no rejections."

"How did you modify it?" Jill inquired. "As far as I know, the virus itself was really unstable. Modifying a strain would be difficult, if not impossible."

"Well, you've seen dead people walking on the street and it's been frequently said that _that_ was impossible," Sherry replied, the dark tinge in her voice making Jill frown. "Even so, you're right; it would've taken too long. Fortunately, the sample was one of the virus in its initial stages, so we still had time to intervene in its perfection process. It was the 'Gb847'."

"Have I read that you also used Nonserotonin or was it my imagination?" Wesker then piped up. "What were you trying to do? Transform me into a Tyrant of some sort?"

"Not at all," Sherry quickly replied. "We didn't start the project until a week after we got you back. The Uroboros pustules that still remained were eating away your body, since -now that I know- it needs organic matter to keep itself alive, and they almost left you skin and bone.

"The Nonserotonin played an important role in the project: since it was the hormone that was needed to create the Tyrants, with a bit of T-virus we managed to restore your body mass whilst the experimental strain did its work. Too much of the strain would've proved fatal, too little of it would've made everything go down the pan. Luckily, your body tolerated the hormone and kept its levels stable; it wouldn't surprise me if we can't find it anymore. We... then had to sow the skin together in some areas."

"Hence scars like this one?"

Jill felt as if she had been slapped. Was he ignoring her or was he _really_ going to show something like a dreadful scar in front of her?

_Come on, he's got to have some pride! I don't think he'd show something like that, not even -and especially- when _I'm_ around! Still... maybe he wants me to see? But why? What would that-?_

Before she could finish the thought, Wesker rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and showed his forearm with an angle with which Jill would be able to see it completely; at least, that's what she thought. Was that also intentional?

_Nevermind that... My God..._

Sherry, being the one who had treated him, wasn't surprised; that much Jill could see. With a mild frown and her eyes wide, she stared at his skin, which was something close to dreadful. There were two shades of skin sown together by a thick black thread and by the looks of it, it seemed as the skin had grown over the thread, leaving it deep under it... possibly even under the flesh.

_No, wait... it's not thread! It's the scar itself!_

What a misjudgement! But because of the distance, it was difficult to discern reality from appearance, and Jill wasn't going to step one inch closer, not at all. The black scar snaked around his forearm and went up to the back of his hand, where the skin was of the shade Jill remembered it to be. It was almost as a scene taken out from a sci-fi movie, but hey! Wasn't her life like a movie already?

Jill examined Wesker's face, looking for any similarities between that scar and his forearm's, but she found none; at least, not in the healing method. Also, the scarred side was almost as tanned as his healthy side, only slightly darker, and there was no visible scar, scab or thread that kept the two sides together. Also, Jill knew about the serum he still had to take, and it seemed it was helping that particular scar to heal. She gulped: was it really the same throughout the rest of his limbs?

"Hence scars like those," Sherry nodded, and Wesker lowered the sleeve again. "The same happened with your features." Jill chewed on the inside of her lip, lowering her head.

"I guess they'll heal, won't they?"

Her head immediately snapped up. _I have NOT said that just now! Thank goodness I was only musing upon it and didn't talk too loud... I'm dead if he's heard it._

But Wesker only cracked a smirk, a gesture that was of little consolation, if not none, to Jill. "They will; of that, I'm sure," he said with a short nod.

"Even though many of your earlier traits are gone, you still have formidable strength and stamina. You can't complain, can't you?" Sherry replied with a humble smile. "Sorry I didn't tell you about this before; there was still too much to go through."

Jill knew it'd be long, and very long, before the knot in her stomach was undone. Then she remembered something, a question that needed to be answered.

"I don't care if this a bit random, but who killed Ivanov?"

"Few days ago, wasn't it?" Sherry asked Wesker, who shook his head in a disapproving manner that triggered a smirk from the young woman. Jill gaped at him.

"So it was-"

"You really don't remember?" he asked her. "You were scared to death when you saw me. Yes, it was me who pulled the trigger instead of you. We're after Gionne, and without relent."

Jill cocked an eyebrow, a gesture that belied her feelings towards the revelation.

_It was you who pulled the trigger and per ende the one who saved me! Impossible... I'll have to ask him about that sometime or another, but it'll have to be soon. And... maybe it was also him the one who left the rose... _

"We also took out the rest of the dealers: Mikhail and Gil. Only Greene and Janssen are left," Sherry added with a nod. "We'll need something in return for that." Jill stiffened.

"Hey, I didn't ask for your help, alright? In fact, if you hadn't been there, I wouldn't be _here_ in the first place," she replied, bewildered. Sherry smirked at Wesker and chuckled.

"She's easy to joke with, I'll give you that."

Oh, how Jill's pride hurt after that remark.

"If I hadn't been there," Wesker intervened, "none of this would've happened, possibly, but I wouldn't have offered the necessary help to keep Redfield alive. I suppose you wouldn't have been fond of the fact of losing him for good, am I right?" Jill found herself without a witty reply: Wesker _was_ right.

_He always has to have the last word, huh? God, I'm also being too reckless; I can't think about what I'm saying... and it's happened twice in a row already! Focus, Jillian, focus!_

"Speaking of, there's been a breakthrough on his state," Sherry piped up, and she smiled -_smiled!_- at Jill. "I knew you'd like to hear it. In any case, he regained consciousness for a few minutes last night. "By the looks of it though, it doesn't seem like he'll remember anything when he finally wakes up."

Jill smiled inwardly, feeling a bit of warmth spread throughout her chest. "Chris' memory might not be good sometimes, but he has an great photographic memory when it comes to images. It'll nag him some time or another."

"That's it for the good news," Sherry said then, "because there's also a piece of bad news." Silence reigned for a short moment, a very uncomfortable silence which washed away all hope from Jill's heart.

"Let's hear it," Wesker acknowledged.

"After that period of consciousness, a series of random mutations took place," Sherry explained, and then sighed, her eyes darkening.

"Describe it, every single detail."

"I swear it was the worst thing I'd ever seen as of yet. The virus became unstable and the mutations affected his muscle mass, mostly in his arms. Most of it literally melted away as if an acid had been poured upon it and then the virus reconstructed the lost tissue in a grotesque way: the pustules tried to wrap itself around his arms and act as the muscles' surrogates. It didn't work, and it kept going like that for a scant thirty seconds or so, a non-stop cycle."

Jill waited for everything to sink in. Was the virus giving Chris such a hard time? Was this what really happened to viable hosts?

_My God... I can't believe what that would've been. Please, Chris, hold on; we're doing as much as we can._

"There were no visible deep wounds or lacerations in his arms, so the only and most solid hypothesis I have is that there might've been torn fibres or ligaments. The virus tried to act upon those injuries whilst at the same time was unstable." Sherry folded her arms across her chest after shrugging her shoulders lightly. Jill felt her heart sink and swallowed hard to keep the sudden queasiness from taking its toll.

"In thirty seconds and given the speed of the virus, much more than that might've happened," Wesker reflected, his tone dark. "It _is_ reaching a period of instability, something describable as natural. How is he now?"

"He looks the same as before the mutation -no injuries, no skin anomalies aside from his initial greyish shade- but he's lost some mass, mostly in his whole upper body. After that, the vitals were once again stable," Sherry replied. She looked at Wesker. "I think you'll have to share the PG with him for a while."

"Will it cause the same effects as it did with this 'experimental strain' you mentioned before?" Jill asked. For some reason, she sensed Wesker had seen the question coming, since he was the one who replied to it.

"Most likely."

"You know which effects I'm referring to, right?"

"If you mean both types of effects, I'll only refer to the most logical ones: yes, the PG will stabilize the virus' mutations and will keep them at bay. I dare say it'll work out perfectly, even though nothing assures its success," he said, evasive. Jill frowned again.

_He's avoiding something, I know he is. I also meant the effects the strain caused on him: would Uroboros give Chris the same abilities the strain gave Wesker? If the PG can work on both viruses, then it means the strain and Uroboros have to be related, one deriving from the other; either that or they have a common predecessor. _

"Although we're short on doses. I have the precise number for you; I don't think I'd have enough for both," Sherry added, averting her gaze.

"That's neat," Wesker said sarcastically. "Then it all leads to one thing and one thing only, although..." He looked at Jill, who felt her gut clench even more than it already was. "I'd like to hear it from you; for that, I'll provide you with some information: early studies on Progenitor determined that it was impossible to take the Progenitor flower out of its natural habitat since it was unable to produce the virus someplace else."

Jill kept silent, her thoughts racing.

_Origin of the flower: Africa... It's unable to produce the virus outside the garden where it was found... PG is a serum that stabilizes the 'experimental strain'... The 'experimental strain' is possibly related to Progenitor... Progenitor is needed to--_

"It's impossible!" she exclaimed at last, backing away and taking a hand to her mouth. Wesker wasn't fazed by her reaction: he didn't smirk or make a caustic remark; it seemed to have hit him more than Jill had thought.

"Yes, this is the biggest predicament of all. If we want to prevent Redfield's possible death, we must return to Kijuju."

xx

_For a long moment, her heart stopped. His hands upon her waist, his breath against her skin, his chest against her back; nothing else was necessary to make panic course through her. Then, her heart quickened all of a sudden, uncomfortable with such closeness. What was he trying to do? Seduce her? _

"_You've got control now, not me..."_

_Impossible, it was simply..._

_So short. Then, it all vanished._

XX

**August 11th, 2009**

Almost another week went by since the fateful day when Jill learned of their inevitable return to Africa. It was like a return to the past, a travel through time that would only bring pain and suffering to her mind; it would all remind her of the agony, the despair and the horror she had lived for three long years. She didn't want to remember; she wanted to forget about it, to banish all thoughts from her mind.

_I've sounded a bit egoistical. This is not about me, it's about Chris. He went to incredible lengths just to find me, he did the impossible, he almost killed himself in the attempt. I think it's time I did the same; after all, I owe him too much._

That much was true.

At the moment, Jill felt helpless, unable to do anything for her partner. His survival was up to him for now, but Jill couldn't shake off an uneasy feeling. Chris had shared her pain countless times, he'd helped her go on another bunch of countless times; now that it was time to repay him, she could do nothing. Frustrating? More than that. It was something close to humiliating.

She'd do something, alright. She'd be strong, for herself, for _Chris_.

She lifted her gaze and fixed it upon Chris' calm face, trying to be as calm as he seemed to be. Much to her surprise, Sherry had allowed her a few moments with him without -and this was the important part- Wesker knowing. Jill had to admit Sherry was a very different kind of person. At first she'd wondered: how could someone like her be with someone like Wesker? It was then, out of that question, that Sherry showed herself lenient and told Jill about her past.

Jill also learnt it had been Sherry who had left her that small note, and also learnt that it was Wesker who it had referred to. The answer to the question of why she had left that note there remained unknown; Sherry hadn't said anything about it.

"_Maybe you'll learn why soon,"_ she had said with a short smile. _"Maybe you'll also learn to see things from a different point of view. There's nothing black and there's nothing white: we are always grey. Have that in mind."_

For a brief moment, Jill's mind went back to that conversation: _"We are always grey."_ Jill knew what Sherry meant by that, but there were also lingering questions, ones that had bugged her for the last few hours: did it also apply to _him_? Was that what _he_ had tried to say? What did _he_ want Jill to realize, if that was indeed his purpose?

_I'm a bit confused, to be honest, and a bit intrigued, too. I don't know why though: I should know better than try to know about Wesker. But Sherry... she speaks of him very naturally, as if he hadn't been the person he's always been. For some reason, I can't help thinking about the Age of Enlightenment and its way of thinking: man is good by nature, it's society which corrupts him. I wonder... what if that's what happened to Wesker?_

Jill shook her head hastily, burying her face in her hands afterwards.

_What am I thinking?! Am I... am I implying that he might've been different? Goodness gracious, and I said he was insane! I should know better than doing that: he's done horrible things to us! Look what's happened because of him..._

"You can't believe how much I need you to be awake now, Chris," Jill uttered without realizing. "I'm trying to be strong for you, but I need someone to talk to. It's all so different now, everything is like it shouldn't be, as if the world had turned upside-down for a while just to bother us. You might not believe this but... I'm having my doubts about Wesker." She paused, smiling sadly. "If you're hearing this, whenever you wake up, you can beat me to a pulp if you want to: I won't stop you. Forgive me, but I have to do it..."

Jill brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, ducking her head after that. Coincidentally, in the past she became familiar with the term 'tsundere', which came from the Japanese language and meant to describe someone who at first was cold and reserved with others but with time opened up to them and showed their kind side. Jill was a person who could tell when people where lonely or if something was wrong in their lives and always did her best to help them.

But now, it was different.

A part of her mind had related that term to who was with her, Wesker, but that was a stupid idea. Still, she'd seen a lot of evidence that proved that: it seemed Sherry was the only person he was comfortable around. Jill hadn't seen him smiling or similar -since it was a task close to impossible- but there hadn't been a single time when he had snapped at her. What was also true was that Jill had only been with them for a short time, so her assumptions were all based on what little evidence she had.

There was another reason why it had been a stupid idea. The other part of her mind had literally yelled at her to stay away from him, lest the painful memories of her days of suffering returned. In fact, sometimes they did, haunting her dreams and making her relive the horror to the extreme. Jill had witnessed how sadistic Wesker could be, but not when it came to physical damage.

His field of expertise was the human mind and exploiting its weaknesses. With only so much as speaking -_Hell, even breathing!_- he could instill terror in the calmest of people.

During the months of recovery after Kijuju, it was true that Jill had suffered from nightmares and sometimes hallucinations due to the remnants of the memories that were still in her mind. It had been as if those remnants had reconstructed themselves on their own and formed the horrible memories again for Jill to relive them.

After that, her mind had become stronger, much more. But one of the hallucinations wouldn't leave her head.

"_Why can't I let go? Why can't you let go of me, dammit?! Why can't you disappear?!" _

Jill cringed, remembering that illusion as one of the most horrible so far. She had many times tried to find out the cause of the hallucinations, why she had always had the feeling Wesker would be in them, why he had always tortured her so.

Was it true that Jill couldn't let go of his memory? Was it true that Jill couldn't let go of _him_?

_Man, that made it sound as if I had feelings for him, which I do not. _

Jill knocked on her head a couple of times, hoping the throbbing that then remained would help her be reasonable once again.

_Hm... many people say that memories will keep haunting you unless you come to terms with them and accept them. If that's the case, does that mean I have to come to terms with Wesker? My God, not in my life! I know, I know, I've never been this resentful, but he's completely another story. I can't even deal with him properly and I guess I can say why: because he's different now._

In which aspects though?

_Wait... didn't I just tell myself before that I would have to learn about him? Didn't I had the feeling I _had_ to know? It's all so antagonistic I can't decide. Perhaps I only have to tread carefully; if not, I might step into the hole and trip over._

Jill raised a hand and took Chris', wincing at the pain that arose in her chest after feeling how cold her partner was. Frowning, she gazed at him again.

"I wonder what you'd say about this. Possibly that "No way in hell that's happening", but you never know. And no... it's not the time to think if it's Stockholm Syndrome or not." To her surprise, she chuckled at her own joke, even though it was nothing to laugh about. "Good God, it's unbelievable."

"If you don't mind me asking, what's unbelievable?"

Jill turned her head around quicker than ever before, having been startled by Wesker's voice, in which she would've sworn that she'd found a trace of curiosity.

"Damn, you scared the creeps out of me... How long have you been there?" she asked him, annoyed. He shrugged very slightly, as if with care.

"Long enough to hear a reference to Redfield here and a "No way in hell that's happening". Only that, I can guarantee."

Jill scoffed. "What? Now you're taking care of not eavesdropping?"

"I wasn't eavesdropping," he shot back, "but you're free to think whatever you want to. And that wasn't technically a conversation, if I might add."

_Was that humour? I'm hallucinating._

"As long as there's a speaker, I would say there is. I was only... talking to myself, that's all," Jill replied, resting her chin upon her knees again. It had all been to avoid showing the colour her cheeks had acquired.

_Damn, if he's heard that... it wouldn't surprise me if he came up with a mention to Stockholm. Nice going, Jillian._

There was a short moment of silence which to Jill seemed more like hours. She knew Wesker's piercing gaze was trained upon her nape; it wouldn't move anywhere else. If that was the case, a question came to Jill's mind: what could he be thinking?

"Everything's ready, we should leave now," he then said after that silence. Jill stood up from her seat, gave a sharp exhale and nodded. "He's coming with us too, so I recommend we leave for the heliport first."

"Alright, let's go then," Jill spoke with another nod. She fell in line behind Wesker when he turned and walked to the door, feeling her hesitation gluing her lips together to prevent the question she desired to ask from coming out. "May I ask a question?" First step.

"Go on."

"Back at Spain... why did you save me?" Second and final step.

And the rest was silence.

* * *

_A/N: And there we have it, the beginning of a very, very complex relationship. Something I wanted to say: if you felt you weren't satisfied enough with the explanations I gave, I'm sorry; my science level is at a basic level, but I'll make up for it in the future when I study my genetics and virology degree xDDDD For now, this is the best I can do *is ashamed* _

_I want honest opinions on how well or badly I've built the foundations of the story and how do you think I've started with Jill's and Wesker's most strange relationship. It's got its ups and downs, and you'll see how everything changes._

Reviews are appreciated!^^_  
_


	13. Chapter XIII: Chess And Puzzles

**Author's Note:** Update that is due is right here, along with many many many things xD I won't say anything about this one, only that we finally switch to see and think like Wesker upon the matter; any guesses about what he might say? There are also things which reveal the changes Jill is going through just to be able to stand him. Okay, enjoy now!^^

* * *

XIII

Chess and Puzzles

_'The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.' Albert Einstein_

"_Back at Spain... why did you save me?"_

_And the rest was silence._

xx

Silence.

That was the only thing Wesker replied with, since Jill had asked the question till they marched down the hall again after he collected the only item he considered valuable: the notebook where he many times used to write in. Before, he could've discarded it; now, Wesker felt he couldn't go anywhere without it. It was stupid to feel attached to a simple notebook, but its pages contained secrets nobody was meant to be aware of or thoughts and outlines he could use to make sense of dreams or flashbacks of his dreadful youth.

Before he decided to reply to Jill's question, Wesker allowed himself a few more minutes of silence. There was something nagging him and that, as he soon came to understand, was his behaviour in the last few days. He had accepted that he was a bit more 'human', since he also understood that there was no way his psyche would've remained unharmed after the incident in Africa, but he was already guessing that he was stepping over the line. What was the factor that influenced his behaviour lately? What was he trying to do, gain Jill as his ally? Foolish, that was what it was. But if that wasn't the case, why the 'bargains' he had agreed to stablish? He knew he was shackling himself, he knew he'd had to reply to her questions in one way or another, directly or indirectly... then why was he doing it? What was there to accomplish?

"Why did I save you? That's an interesting question indeed," he said at last without turning. "I don't even know myself. Perhaps it was because of an outburst, maybe it was a decision I made voluntarily; who knows? But I did tell you something before you fell, although you might not remember."

"What was that?"

"'Be careful'. That was it," Wesker replied, smirking at her. "You were scared out of your skin though, so it was expected that you didn't understand me."

"What did you expect me to do?" Jill exclaimed with a light snort. "After all these years and all the effort, you wouldn't be expecting a pleasant reaction. What would you have wanted me to do? Smile at you, perhaps?"

Wesker chuckled darkly. "Not then."

"What about now?"

"I'd appreciate if you did. After all, I'm not intent on harming you, not as I was before." Wesker stopped for a second, meeting her gaze, and saw how fiercely it gleamed. She was being bold, yes, but who knew if she was still fearful of him? Right now, there was no way of telling: Jill was nothing close to the open book she was before.

"It's hard to smile lately, if you ask me," she snapped, a dark scowl on her face. "Besides, why would you care? You've managed to leave me without even wanting to smile, so don't ask me to do it."

"There's no point in refusing to smile when you can, don't you agree?"

"God, why are you telling me this?!" she exclaimed in exasperation, throwing her hands up in the air. "As if _you_ of all people understood a single thing about feelings!

"I of all people, you said? I understand more than you could ever imagine."

"What are you trying to do, humiliate me? Mock me?" Jill snapped, seemingly without wanting to hold back her rage.

"Perhaps, perhaps not." He smirked once again as he watched Jill's face contort with shock. "Here goes a question: why are you so intent on hating me?"

"Holy- Really, do you need an answer to _that_ question?" Jill shot back. "Because you shattered our lives to pieces, that's why! I can't believe you're taking this so lightly; if you're mocking me, I have to say you must be getting a real kick out of it."

"I'm trying to help you and to my surprise, and indirectly, I'm trying to help Redfield too. Wouldn't that alleviate the hate, even if it was a bit?" Wesker said, resuming his walk. As he did, Jill fell in line behind him, running a hand through her brown locks.

"Well, I guess I _could _thank you, but that's not going to change anything." She sighed, showing how tired she was.

"Something wrong, Miss Valentine?"

"Nothing... forget it," she said, dismissing his question. "Again, why would you care? And I'm getting to the real deal here: _why_ would you _care_? You're not going to be charitable soul that'll take pity on me, are you?"

The first reply to that last remark of hers was another of his typical chuckles, this one close to a wicked laugh.

"And I'm sure you won't be that kind of soul either, will you?" he said, dropping a hint that perhaps Jill would catch. "But that's a question I'll have to consider," he allowed faint amusement to tinge his tone, "but, if you must know, I have my reasons. I have told you before: we've both been in hell, you and me, but your reasons why were unfair."

_Unfair? My tongue is slipping..._

"Why unfair?" Jill questioned. "You should be thinking that I deserved my life to be so horrible. All this time you've wanted to see us suffer; I don't see why you would want to stop."

Wesker shrugged, nonchalant. "Oh, you make it sound as if I were a sadist."

"If I told you I had made that assumption, what would you say?"

"Nothing. What would you say if I told you I made the assumption that you were a simple-minded woman?" he asked in return, his brow creasing. Oh yes, she _was_ simple-minded, just like Redfield was. Maybe self-righteous too, but that was nothing unknown to Wesker himself.

"I've been told that many times, although I can be quite open-minded too."

Wesker stole a glance at her, finding her expression to be one of a haughty person... somehow forced? Indeed, she _was_ bold: no enemy of Wesker's attempted to negotiate with him in such a way, if this could be called 'negotiating'. Suspicion wouldn't leave his mind.

"Trying to prove me wrong?"

"I'm only telling the truth," Jill said, shrugging. "What about you? I'd like to know if you're being honest." He allowed himself to shrug his shoulders.

_Honesty is not a card which I play very often; I prefer to keep it up my sleeve as an ace. I play it when the moment is right._

"Seek the truth if you must; it's my nature to lie once in a while," Wesker replied with another smirk. Keeping a close eye on her resolute gait, he watched her increase her speed to walk right next to him. For some reason, her behaviour and demeanour amused him, but also left him confused. Whilst he had lost a bit of the ice around his heart, it seemed that same ice was forming around Jill's: was it all going vice versa? Right as it shouldn't be going?

"Well, I _am _seeking the truth, to be honest, and I will do my best to discover it. Even if it means having to cooperate with you or... keeping up conversations like these. Everything has a price."

"You're bold. And how will you uncover that truth which thou seek?"

"Forcing you to be honest with me," Jill said, resolute. "Besides, if you aren't, I won't be either." Wesker dipped his head with a nod.

"True."

_What am I trying to accomplish with this? It's futile, it's almost like I'm playing a joke on myself... one that hasn't got much entertainment. It wouldn't surprise me if this ended with terrible consequences. Is she plucking out what little courage she still has left to keep up with me? It's plausible; she has changed lately... but what would she want to keep up with?_

"Tell me something," she intervened as if on cue. "Why do you have such a twisted mind?"

"I'll pretend I haven't heard that last adjective, Miss Valentine."

"I'm not taking that back, mind you, but let me rephrase that: 'complex' is better?" Jill said, emphasizing the last bit with a faint groan. As they went up a set of stairs, Wesker showed himself to be genuinely surprised at the use of that adjective. Complex? Since when would Jill use such a word?

"Why do you say so? There's nothing complex about me; in fact, I'd say you'd describe me as a single-minded bastard, or am I wrong?" he replied, hiding his suspicion. He was even tempted to smile matter-of-factly, judging by the way Jill's brow shot up in surprise.

"Which reminds me," she said, "why such an... obsession with-"

"You amuse me!" Wesker interjected. "Now you're trying to make me fancy a bit of introspection, hm? It's quite odd in you; it's as if you had the intention of figuring out something else about me, find quirks and habits or whatever details appeal to you. I have to say these questions are unnatural."

"They're not unnatural, they're _logical_, and I guess you've had in mind all these years that, to defeat your enemy, you have to know about him first," Jill replied.

_'Observe your enemies, for they first find out your faults.' One of Anthisthenes' many principles._

"So we're still enemies?" Wesker spoke with a chuckle. "You disappoint me; I had started to think distrust was starting to disappear." Jill frowned at him, seemingly indignant.

"I'll decide whether to trust you or not. I'm sorry if I've disappointed," she replied, her tone sharp. Wesker decided to play along: if there was something that really got to Jill's nerves, it was rhetoric, used against her or not. It'd be fun to gauge her reaction for sure.

"No need to apologize; I didn't ask for an apology, after all."

"These days..." she then reasoned out loud. "I don't know why, but they've been..."

"Yes?"

"What's gotten you so interested anyway?" Jill snapped again, turning her head towards him. So far, Jill had never met his gaze directly; it took him a bit aback that she had done it now. It was not only the fact, but the way she had done it: as if she was talking to someone else rather than him, as if it wasn't Albert Wesker whom she had in front of her. He noticed how she frowned; it seemed she was scrutinizing him, trying to find something else.

"Just that statement you failed to complete," he replied as he opened the door to the heliport. "Care to continue?"

They were welcomed by the typical summer ambient of a day of August: heat, a shining sun and a clear sky; there was no sight of the clouds that had threatened to bathe the city in a rainstorm. In spite of having his usual eye protection, Wesker made a faint grimace at the intensity of the sunlight; being in the dark for so long didn't quite help.

Jill also had the same difficulties, but he heard her mutter a low 'Nice weather'.

"Why the curiosity?" asked Jill, not losing the thread of the conversation. This was when Wesker questioned his own hearing: had he heard well or had Jill's voice sounded much more calm and warm, all traces of snappiness gone? In spite of this, Wesker found no reason to let that get to him, although it did manage to arise a question that kept pulsating in some part of his mind.

"It's only natural; we don't ask questions for nothing."

And this was the difficult part: how to explain the reason behind his curiosity without actually telling everything? This was one of the times when Wesker considered lying as the only solution, but it had to be sincerity for sincerity, nothing else. Besides, whatever ulterior motives Jill had, he was starting to figure them out. If he replied to Jill's question, not only he would reveal one of his most important secrets but also give Jill the clues she needed. He would show her he had a weak spot, and that was something Wesker couldn't afford.

"So, back to your earlier statement: these days have been... what?" he then asked as he and Jill approached the transport. Jill didn't reply immediately, but thought her words with care.

"Alright... these days you've shown yourself to be a bit different."

"As I suspected, introspection... Please, you've seen that I'm still myself-"

_That's not true, and you know it-_

"-so I don't know where you see the difference," Wesker continued in spite of his arguing thoughts. He noticed how Jill eyed him intently, and he did the same.

"It's mostly when Sherry's around," she pointed out, dreadfully hitting bullseye. At this remark, Wesker felt the biggest pang of indignation so far: how did she dare to say something like that? Of what importance was this to her?!

"She's just a colleague of mine, that's all," he replied, his tone cold and blunt. Without turning to her, Wesker clenched his left fist, the one she couldn't see, and narrowed his eyes. With cracked self-control, it was difficult to keep emotions like anger at bay-

_Yet another piece of evidence which points at the obvious._

Jill made the wise decision of not replying to his last remark and got inside the small plane that had been arranged for their trip, Wesker following suit. At midway, he stopped and turned, catching sight of Sherry standing a few metres away from the foot of the metal ladder. The wind shook her hair violently, but Wesker could see her gaze from behind the blonde locks that danced before her features. Her expression was serene and hard, her eyes conveying the message in them successfully, and then she smiled at him as a farewell.

Before she could keep staring at him any longer, he proceeded inside the plane, feeling shame gnawing at him. What to be ashamed of though? Because with just one gaze, he had been reminded of what he was; also, he was reminded of what he was forbidden to do. But with the water up to your neck, your feet not touching the ground, what is there left to do? Either fight or surrender and drown. Both of them seemed difficult.

Which one to pick?

xx

It was almost dusk by the time they got there. The plane had managed to land near the very familiar dock where the Tricell Tanker had been stationed and the very familiar exit from the Research Centre. From then on, it had taken hours of work to get everything back on track because of the centre's massive size and vast electrical system, and even more hours to get the lab rooms ready. In one of them, they would keep Chris, who was still dormant and unresponsive.

It all brought back so many memories that Jill wasn't sure if she'd be able to take all the flashbacks that would surely assail her mind whenever they had the chance to. At the sight of the Monarch Room hours ago, Jill felt the first wave of memories passing through her mind, all of them accompanied by voices, bits and pieces of sentences and cacophonies: in short, as if she was reliving the horror once more. It'd be the same with all of the rooms of the complex, she had told herself, and so it had been. The memories she had thought she could banish from her mind came back, and with the evillest of intentions.

There was also something to notice in all this: Wesker. Since all involving the 'bargains' had started -without forgetting Jill's own interest-, they had taken a very strong interest in examining- _scrutinizing_ each other to absorb the most simplest of details and gestures, since it was all about one thing and one thing only: knowing the enemy. With that information, they would predict their moves, their words, their actions and reactions. At least, that's what Jill had come to think: no matter how hard she tried, there were times when Wesker was still unreadable.

During their initial exploration of the Research Centre -as if they didn't know it well enough already-, Jill tried to see if any of the sights which were so familiar to both of them somehow fazed or forced Wesker to remember, but she found no signs of that. His expression and behaviour, both unruffled, caused momentary disconcert to arise, yet it was something Jill didn't consider unusual. Still, she had come to suspect he had lost some -or even many- of his memories: would being in Africa again cause some to come back? Would they change him into the Albert Wesker she knew? Not that he wasn't anymore, but if you asked Jill, she was already suspecting empathy was somehow starting to get to him. How to explain the fear she had seen days ago? Never in his life he would've shown that if it wasn't for a good reason, and even _without _a reason.

Jill crossed one leg over the other and sighed, trying to keep the impending headache from getting worse. It was not a headache caused by physical discomfort, but _mental. _ Even though she was a strong person, she found it impossible to keep a single thought out of her mind.

That she was weak.

_Wesker must've surely noticed how my behaviour has changed; it wouldn't surprise me if he made more witty remarks about it. I can't really help it though: it's the only way I can keep myself from collapsing in front of him; I can't let him see that I'm still... shaken by the past. I've even forced some emotions sometimes... I don't feel the same as always. I don't feel like I'm strong anymore._

"_Don't pretend to be strong,"_ Wesker had once said. Right now, as the sentence echoed in her ears again, she had to agree with it. At the same time though, it would be humiliating if he saw Jill was still easy to control or torture; Jill wouldn't allow her pride to be hurt, despite she wasn't an exceptionally proud person. With another sigh, she lowered her leg and buried her face in her hands, leaning on her knees. There was an unhealed hole in her chest, one that'd take too long and much to close.

She then glanced around the vast Monarch Room, getting a full sight of it from the main balcony. It was a room she had avoided to be in at all costs, but Jill now thought it was the only place that could give her a little peace of mind, as ironic as it was. It was a good thing though, since all the memories that came back to her mind convinced her even more of what she was doing and that it was the correct thing.

"_Get yourself together, wake up! Jill Valentine!!"_

When Chris' words rang in her ears, she wondered if she would have to do the same should he lose his memories. That was a worst-case scenario, but anything could happen.

"Why so crestfallen? And here I come with a piece of good news I thought that would lift your spirits."

Jill glanced -even glared- up front and found Wesker at the foot of the staircase, his arms folded across his chest and expression impassive in spite of the note of wicked amusement in his tone.

No matter what, it seems he still enjoyed seeing her distraught or doing whatever he could to see her so.

"I appreciate the sarcasm," she said, rolling her eyes and grimacing. To her surprise -did she have to be surprised?-, Wesker shook his head, dropping an initial hint Jill didn't know if to interpret her way or not.

"Please, that wasn't sarcasm in the least," he replied, "although I can provide you with some if you'd like. In any case, is your mind clear enough to hear what I have to say?"

Jill didn't reply as quick as she would've normally done, but measured his words with great care. "Alright, I'm listening."

As he spoke, Wesker approached her slowly. "The tests I ran were successful; so far, there have been no abnormalities. Despite this, we will have to work fast if we want- wait, let me rephrase that, if _you_ want Redfield to be up and running in the next few days. Don't worry: I won't need your assistance."

"So I'm just in for the ride?" Jill snapped, jumping to her feet. "Damn, you could've left me in the States if you didn't want me here! Look, I'm going to do whatever it takes to get Chris safe, and you won't stop me."

"Whatever it takes?" Wesker echoed, amusement dripping from his words. "Wouldn't you like to say 'whatever _I can_'?"

Jill was taken aback for a second, both because of his words and the very small distance he kept between them. "What do you mean by that? I'm up for it; you must know by now."

"That I know, but it's not advisable to risk one's life as recklessly as your words suggest, is it?"

Before she continued, she choked back her next words and released a sigh. "Forget it, and fine: you won't need me. Then what am I here for?"

"To keep Redfield company, of course," he replied with a slight tilt of his head. "To prepare the serum correctly, I must go to the underground garden and start the investigation there. I won't be present most of the time, and I need someone as an intermediate. I believed you would be up for the task."

Jill's breath caught in her throat and she widened her eyes involuntarily, something that made her companion chuckle.

"You should listen better; I wasn't even done speaking when you intervened."

"There's no room for apologies, is there?" Jill snapped, narrowing her eyes. Wesker smirked.

"There isn't, because I didn't and won't ask for apologies. And, if I'm not wrong, you won't either, so it's all fair," he said with a shrug. Jill couldn't take anymore... which led her to make the biggest mistake so far.

"And what would you know about what's fair and what isn't?"

How Jill regretted saying that.

At least, that was her initial thought. Her stomach knotted with anticipation and nervousness, which led her to bite the inside of her lip, and a shiver ran down her spine. A long and tense silence reigned between them, a silence through which Jill wished she was invisible, but no sharp reaction came from Wesker, only a calm remark which made the curiosity in the back of her mind have a front-row seat once again.

"Well, I have quite an idea of what's supposed to be fair and what isn't," he said. This was one of those moments when Jill didn't know how to control herself. If he wanted to taunt her, then he was succeeding, but Jill wasn't going to let him step on her like she was the floor under his feet.

"You claim to have an idea of everything, don't you?" she shot back.

"I claim so because I've seen many things you'd never imagine," Wesker said in return. His tone wasn't blunt or caustic, but it didn't hide his indignation either. "Yes, I know many things and I consider many others too, although isn't that up to each of us to judge? For example, would it be fair to betray someone? You would say that no, it isn't, but I would beg to differ: it would be fair if it was for a good reason. What else...?"

"Would it be fair to torture someone?" Jill intervened, lifting an eyebrow. Wesker showed himself contemplative -maybe even faked it, then said,

"Perhaps it would, if one had a solid and sensible reason to do so. Obvious answers but alas, these two matters were relative; let's talk about absolutes or those that would seem to be: is it fair to rip someone away from their family? Say, a child? Five, six years old?"

"Good God, of course not!" she exclaimed, dreading the thought. "Every child deserves to have a family, that's for sure."

Wesker tilted his head once more. "Even though the education the child received warped his or her mind to the point of making it twisted?"

Jill took a sharp breath, staring at him in disbelief. What was he getting at? Sure, there were many examples of bad-mannered children in the world, but why use 'warped' and 'twisted'? She found some difficulty in replying to the question: it all depended on being idealistic or realistic, as Jill soon noticed.

"That's one of the most difficult things to answer to, correct? It all depends on being idealistic or realistic: which is the one you choose?"

"It also has to do with points of view and the person's mentality," Jill said, her tone somewhat pensive. "Someone would think that it'd be improper for the child to receive such education, but someone else would think that it'd be the best one he could ever get."

"We're getting somewhere, aren't we? Now you see there's nothing black and nothing white: it's always grey."

Jill lifted her gaze at him, remembering who had said the same ones: it had been Sherry. The questions came back to her mind: what was he getting at? What were his intentions? What did he want to tell her, if that was actually what he wanted?

"Consider what I was about to do before your _partner _foiled my plans," Wesker continued with a somehow wistful tone.

"That's different!" exclaimed Jill, almost enraged, but Wesker simply shook his head.

"Not any different than what someone else would want to do with us," he replied. "When change is necessary, it is; there's no arguing that."

"Change might be necessary, but not when it involves killing billions of people," she snapped, holding his hidden gaze.

"There's no room for idealism here, Miss Valentine; keep going down that path and you'll see how wrong you are."

She moved her eyes away, fixing her gaze upon the dark-tiled floor of the room, and frowned, contemplative.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked him then. "Why are you making me think like this? It's as if you want _me_ to change in the first place." Wesker didn't reply immediately, something which disconcerted Jill much more than she already was.

"It's just so that we understand each other. I can't ask for your cooperation if you still consider me an enemy, now can I?" he said before turning to leave with a lithe movement. Jill was left in a stone silence and almost dumbstruck: to understand one another? Before he could go, she asked,

"And why would you want that to happen?"

Wesker stopped at the landing of the stairs. "You shall see as time goes by." And he left without a sound.

Shaking her head, Jill bit her lip once again, feeling confused. When she opened her eyes, she spotted a small chess board resting against the railing and decided to have a look at it.

_And how did this get here? Was it him who brought it?_

The pieces were made of glass, the board of cold marble, and Jill instinctively reached for one of the four knights. She understood something now: this was a game of chess, the one she was playing, the one _Wesker_ was playing. With each question, with each bargain he made a move; with every answer, with every thought, she made a move. The next question was: who would perform the checkmate first?

Without another word or thought, Jill hurried up to the control room and once there, out of amusement, she arranged the pieces in their respective positions and sides of the board and decided to make a move with one of the white pawns, a single square forward.

_It's your turn now, Wesker. I'm waiting to see what you say next._

Jill left the control room seconds later. By the time she returned, a _black_ pawn had been moved forward. It was a sign, a sign Jill surprisingly accepted with a smile.

_Well, well... looks like someone is up for a game. Wonder how it'll end?_

Their game was on.

* * *

_A/N: Interesting things and behaviour, huh? Just you wait till the next chapter; it'll give a whole new perspective to this story... we're nearing THE moment xDDDD In any case, if you have any complaints about how this is going, I'd like to hear them. I don't want to rush the development, but I don't want it to get boring or anything, you know? Also, I'm going to put up a poll soon, so make sure to check out my profile; it's of vital importance. _

_Reviews are appreciated!^^ _


	14. Chapter XIV: Reason IV: Memories

**Author's Note:** Okay, updates like they're due. This is a shorter chapter, but one that shows where things are going. Just so you know, there will be poll in my profile with one vital question for the continuation of this story. You'll see which, and I'll leave five days for you guys to vote (those who read and review and those who only read), so there will not be an update next Tuesday. But, in return, next Friday may come with a two-chapter special, all depending on your votes and opinions. So, enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs**

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XIV

Reason IV: Memories of Death

_**]Trapped[**_

_When Jill woke up, she swore she hadn't felt worse in her whole life. _

_She shifted uncomfortably, relieving her muscles from the strain, and she blinked a few times before getting fully accustomed the sight around her. Pain seared through her whole body and she couldn't avoid an exclamation when she heard her ribs crack, and loudly. What had happened? _

_Tackling Wesker out of a window, falling down a cliff, then excruciating pain and the feeling of freezing water enveloping her body. She didn't remember anything else, only that, which was more than enough to make her wonder something._

_Shouldn't she be-?_

"_It's good to see you're awake, Miss Valentine."_

_Even though the voice gave her the chills and made a killer instinct kick in, she couldn't move as fast as she would've wanted to. Instead, Jill turned her head with a slow movement, getting used to feeling her body again, and the first thing she did was gasp and stare at Wesker, who in spite of his words had a menacing scowl on his face. _

"_And no, you're not dead," he continued as if nothing, "thanks to me, that is; you would've been if it hadn't been for my... resistance to long falls. I'm quite resilient, as you can see." _

"_What do you want from me now?" Jill asked, her voice surprisingly strong. "Haven't you had enough?"_

_Wesker shook his head, calm. "If you want me to be honest, I haven't, certainly. Besides, you will play a very important factor in my future plans."_

_Ignoring the pain, Jill sat up and, after registering she was lying upon an examination table, swung her legs over the table's side and stood up, her knees trembling under her weight. She scowled at him, her jaw tightening, and she watching him stand up, his gaze still fixed on her. _

"_Screw you! I'm not part of any plan!" she screamed at him, enraged. The sudden surge of rage and adrenaline numbed her body of all kinds of pain and she was left only with courage... pointless courage as she soon found out._

"_On the contrary, you are."_

"_I'm not afraid of you. I can- Ugh!" _

_The pain came back as soon as it had left, and Jill was forced to lower herself to her knees. It was then when she heard Wesker's steps approaching her at a quick pace and that was all she needed to stand up again, ignore the goddamned pain and break into a run to get away from him. The question was: where would she run?_

"_Still fight?" He chuckled. "Don't make me laugh; look at your condition. You don't expect to run and get away, do you? Where would you go, if that were the case?"_

_Jill tried not to listen, but he was dead right. Where would she go? She was as blind as a bat in broad daylight, unable to discern where she was going. She only cared about getting away, as far as humanly possible. Her legs couldn't hold her standing much longer, and she fell down with a thud and a grunt. _

No, please...

"_You're as stubborn as me, I'll give you that much. Yet another one of the _many_ things we have in common."_

_Then, a hard boot stepped on her back and pressed with unimaginable force, which made a cry escape from Jill's chapped lips. It was the most intense pain she'd ever felt; of course, she'd just been saved from almost a hundred-feet fall or even more, and thank God she hadn't died. _

_Wait, did 'thank God' involve thanking Wesker? _No_ way in Hell!_

"_Your attempts are futile, and you know that very well." _

_Ipso facto, Wesker crouched, turned her around and his hand closed around Jill's neck, so strong he threatened to crush her windpipe, triggering a painful exclamation from her. Jill struggled to free herself from his grasp but the more she did, the more Wesker pressed and the more remarks she got from him. _

"_You bastard, let me go!" she exclaimed, her voice hoarse. Wesker didn't ease his grip on her, but what was surprising was that he was not strangling her in the least, just keeping her against the floor to make sure she couldn't escape._

"_That's not the proper way to say it, Miss Valentine," he chastised, sarcastic, with a smirk. "Besides, it surprises me that I don't get any 'thanks' from you; you were always very polite."_

"_Go to hell!" she shouted back, still fighting against his iron grip. _

"_I'm not in the mood to go back, to be sincere," Wesker replied, seemingly finding some amusement in Jill's dire situation. "It's time you experienced what it means to be there, and then you'll know why do I so desperately want to kill you and Chris. But for now, you'll do just fine... oh yes, you will."_

_Jill felt a shiver bolt down her spine and she knew she was trembling. She couldn't keep the tears from leaving her eyes, and that is when she could do nothing but cry and wait for whatever fate was about to befall her. Why was she accepting a fate she could fight against? Why was she surrendering? This was Wesker she was facing; she had to be strong! _

"_There's no need to shed those tears."_

"_Please, just... d-don't..." She remained staring at him, unable to swallow the lump in her throat, her eyes wide and filled with tears. It was the first time Jill had been truly afraid for her life, since she knew Wesker could take it away in a mere blink of an eye. Judging by how his lips curved into a crooked smirk, Jill knew she could start praying right that instant._

"_Will I make this end, you mean?" he asked, very possibly having read the question that was going through Jill's mind, reflected on her eyes. He brushed a few locks from her sweaty forehead, a gesture which would've made Jill _scream _if it wasn't because of her dry throat. "Oh but Jill, dear, we're just getting started!" _

"_NO!"_

XX

_**]Locura sin nombre[  
**-The Nameless Madness-_

_If it wasn't because of the blinding darkness, he would've thought he was dreaming. _

_As he walked through that darkness, he couldn't feel more than coldness under his feet and warmth surrounding his hands. His pace was that of someone tired, even exhausted: it was slow, calm, unconcerned and, to make matters more quaint, effortless. His steps were heavy, forced, uneven, but there was nothing he could do about it, and kept walking down the endless, tile-less path he had in front of him. _

_Then, it all changed. _

_He was still in the dark, his hands still felt warm, his feet still felt cold, but there was something rough under his fingers. When he wanted to notice, he had lifted up his right arm, the rough feeling still under his skin, and absently traced his fingertips up and down the rough surface, up and down, up and down, here and there, to and fro..._

_Endlessly. He thought it was senseless, stupid, foolish and all adjectives that could describe his actions. _

_But it all had a purpose. All of it, it had a purpose, it had had it, and would always have it._

_At last, he stopped moving his arm, and so did his legs. He stopped in his tracks, unable to do something else than looking back at the rough surface: a wall, a cold and rough grey wall. But there was something that stood out of all that grey: crimson, crimson smeared across the wall in what he thought were words. Almost feeling lazy, he scanned the wall, his head tilted to one side. _

_The crimson was blood._

_Not his blood._

_But their blood._

_But who were 'they'? Why would 'their' blood be smeared across the wall?_

_Because his hands were stained with it. Because his hands were stained with the blood _of the people he had killed. _Those people were _they. They_ were_ his victims, _killed with no mercy, killed without sparing them one second of the life they had remaining. _

_Then, it all changed._

_One second he was standing, the other he was still standing, yes, but all reeked of blood's deadly stench. He dared to glance down and found a large claw piercing his stomach from side to side, the claw shining with _his _blood. He understood: the wound was fatal, and he would die. As one droplet of blood fell, he heard the echo of its faint noise. One, two and three..._

_**I'll close my eyes and breathe in deep,**_

_**I'll open my eyes and I'll be free.**_

_**I'll stay awake, I won't fall asleep,**_

_**'Cause the Nameless Madness took over me.**_

_In sudden, inexplicable horror, he stared at the wall as screams and voices transformed from a simple cacophony to a full-fledged, high-quality reproduction of the sounds at their total intensity. As soon as it had come, he wished for everything to go away, for the voices to die off, for the screams to cease; the more he pleaded, the more intense it all turned. _

_Despair took hold of him, clenched his heart in its icy hand, and then it was all like before. He returned to the time when all was blood and suffering, pain and disconcert, sanity and insanity, sadistic joy and inevitable sorrow and anguish. Suddenly Wesker understood what it was all about, yet he could find no explanation for it, no name to define it with. _

_Because the Nameless Madness took over him._

XX

_**]Possession[**_

"_Tell me, Jill: who is it that you hate? Is it you, because of what you're about to do, or is it _me_? Your answer is quite predictable but I'd like to hear it from you; I want to hear you scream it with all the despair and rage you can muster. Because that is what'll keep me going."_

_There was no way she could fight. She was trapped inside a shell over which she had no command, she was in a cage of which she had no key to open the lock. She had tried everything to get rid of that horrible device in her chest, but she couldn't reach for it and tear it off; she had tried everything to escape his clutches, but he would defeat her and beat her again and again, making all her chances of escape plummet somewhere near zero. She knew she couldn't escape, yet she could still try. _

_And now, she had realized everything had been in vain. Every idea led to a plan, every plan led to its performance, and every performance led to inevitable torture. She was in a maze without an exit._

_There was no way she could fight._

"_Or how about this: is it hate what you really feel? Oh, I know you can hear me; I know you're still conscious. Keep hating me and I'll only grow stronger and stronger; hate me and you'll soon realize how wrong you are._"

_She remained looking at him, more like staring, and he did the same. She saw him tilt his head in light amusement and a very faint smirk spread across his tanned features. She knew he was delighting in her pain; it was all that kept him going. _

"_Oh, he's not coming," he told her. Of course, she knew who that 'he' was but for some reason couldn't think about his name. _

_He wasn't coming alright. She didn't have any more hopes: now, she could only rely on her own strength, and she doubted she still had it. Two years of fighting without results, two years of enduring pain and agony both physical and psychological, two years of _madness_. They were wounds that would never close._

"_Because you're mine."_

XX

_**]Tu fui, ego eris[  
**-What I was, you are. What I am, you will be-_

_A look in the mirror was all he needed to know what he was made of._

_With no doubts, he knew he was made of only one thing: ice. It could be seen in everything: his face, his skin, his voice, his words, his personality and, last but not least, his soul. No emotion had never been shown, no emotion apart from wickedness or amusement, if those could even be called emotions. And so he had remained for the rest of his life, like a pillar made of ice that would never crack, no matter what._

_But now, it was different. He knew he could change, he knew he could feel. All because of his enemy, the man he hated the most, the man he feared the most. He, fearing his enemy? That couldn't be: there was only hatred to be felt towards an enemy, not fear or compassion. Despite those essential facts, it had only taken a glance at the mirror to see the reason behind that senseless and rightful fear. _

_At first, nothing had been unusual: he was alone in his reflection. In just one blink of his eyes, everything changed, took a turn for the worst, and he froze in perplexity as he stared into the eyes of the man who was now in place of his reflection. This man's gaze was intense, almost to an inhuman level, and he found himself unable to look away from him. _

_The man in the mirror smiled. Cruelly. Wesker could do nothing as he stared into the man's eyes in the same way his enemy stared into his. Again, that inexplicable fear took hold of him and rendered him immobile, mute. He could only see and hear, and the words the man spoke were like daggers to his heart... the heart he thought that had never existed._

"_You've lost. I won the game now."_

_He shook his head hastily, refusing to believe what he'd just heard. The words kept being repeated, coming out of a mouth that spoke solely of evil and with a tone he found surprisingly familiar. The realization dawned upon him sooner than expected, like a sick and morbid joke, like an illusion which had found its means to be real. _

_That tone was _his own. _Chris Redfield's voice was Albert Wesker's, and Albert Wesker's voice was Chris Redfield's._

_Wesker spoke once again, serene. _ "_Tu fui."_

_Chris gave the deadliest of grins so far. "Ego eris."_

_And everything changed._

_The man in the mirror, Chris Redfield, was no more._

_And the man in the reflection, Albert Wesker, was neither himself or the man Chris Redfield was. Because he didn't know who he was anymore._

_The mirror shattered, the pieces falling down and resting at his feet. He felt pain the same moment the mirror had cracked; would he be able to put the pieces together?_

_Would he be able to put _his pieces _together?_

"_You can't. You've already pieced them together."_

XX

_**]Poison[**_

_For a long moment, her heart stopped. His hands upon her waist, his breath against her skin, his chest against her back; nothing else was necessary to make panic course through her. Then, her heart quickened all of a sudden, uncomfortable with such closeness. What was he trying to do? Seduce her? _

"_You've got control now, not me..."_

_Poison, deadly poison coursing through her veins, the poison of the deadliest of snakes. She was ablaze, bittersweet pain seizing her. Impossible, it was simply..._

_So short. Then, it all vanished._

XX

_**]Indicios[  
**-Signs-_

"_But please, I'm not doing anything, Jill," he mocked with a caustic tone. Jill clenched her teeth in rage and scowled, balling her fists to calm the tingling sensation in her arms that would lead her to beat him up. "Could it be a problem with your mind?"_

"_Horseshit!" she spat, furious. Wesker spread his hands, a gesture Jill misinterpreted. "Don't touch me!"_

"_I haven't touched you... yet," Wesker said in return, crossing his arms. "Aren't you imagining things? What's your problem?"_

"You _are my problem! You always have been! You won't get away with this, I swear!" she exclaimed, her sense of the ridiculous not kicking in. She didn't care if he saw her as a pathetic being locked inside a room with him; Jill would confront him._

"_Such a hollow threat," Wesker thought aloud with a disapproving shake of his head. "Tell me, what will you do?"_

"_I'll fight and resist; you won't see me collapse," she hissed. "And I'm sure that was your purpose, right? To keep torturing my mind? You're not gonna make it, I guarantee that."_

_Though her determination was genuine, the predator-like grin he flashed her made the blood in her veins run cold. "Then I'll try harder, if that's the case," he said with simplicity. _

"_I'm not afraid of you!" Without even thinking, Jill gave two long strides towards him and stood merely half a metre away. Her bravery could get her killed, sure, but it was time someone faced him without fear. At her statement, Wesker said nothing and lifted her chin up with one finger. Jill held his gaze despite the surge of horror that had coursed through her at the feeling of his touch._

"_Then why do your eyes gleam so much?" he asked her, and Jill blinked in surprise. "The eyes are the mirror of one's soul, so they say. Look at mine and you'll understand."_

_Jill watched with oppressing awe as Wesker willingly revealed his gaze to her, and she stared at it long and hard, feeling tiny compared to his imposing figure. Indeed, just as he had said, she understood what he meant and could even picture her own gaze having the intense gleam Wesker's lacked._

"_What's the most strange thing?"_

_But Jill couldn't reply. She felt her knees starting to shake, the colour draining from her face, all because of something such as a gaze. In its own way, it could be called fascinating, but that didn't hide its coldness and what was more important... the lack of empathy it mirrored._

"_I asked a question, Miss Valentine, and I expect an answer," he urged calmly. At last, Jill found strength to speak._

"_They... they don't gleam," she uttered in shock. Wesker's grin faded to a smirk and remained looking at her. Courage pushed shock away, and Jill said, "Then it means you're not human."_

_In that moment, Jill was sure her heart had stopped._

_With a slight tug at her chin and a barely noticeable movement, Wesker leaned down and placed a kiss upon her forehead, full of icy gentleness. Jill felt as if her lungs had been deprived of all oxygen, found it difficult to breathe; she felt her skin ablaze with fear, all because of the feeling of his lips against her skin. At last, Wesker withdrew to gaze down at her, a smirk drawn across his features._

"_Foolish little girl," he then whispered against her ear. "What makes you think I am inhuman, heartless and cold? I can allow myself to savour emotions like... fear or hate, especially when they come from others."_

"_You're insane... you're insane, you're-" Jill was suddenly interrupted by one of his fingers upon her lips and a somewhat patronizing _shh_._

"_I am all but insane, Jill, all but insane. You should do well in remembering that."_

XX

_**]Sub silentio[  
**-In Silence-_

_A hand had closed itself around her wrist, its grip tight and iron-like. She stopped in her tracks, not looking back; she didn't need to do that to know who was behind her, keeping in her in place._

"_Let me go."_

"_But you are the one holding me. What are you doing?"_

_Bewildered, Jill swivelled around and was face to face with Wesker again. Seconds later her gaze drifted to her hand and she found that his words were true: it was her hand the one which was clasping his wrist, and not vice versa. The meaning of it fell upon Jill like the heaviest of rocks._

_She was still holding on to his memory._

"_Why can't I let go? Why can't you let go of me, dammit?! Why can't you disappear?!" _

_He observed her with curiosity, finding amusement in her rage and despair. She was staring at him, wishing with all her strength that everything ended there and then. He tilted his head, she blinked with surprise; she soon understood, he lost all rationality; they both asked questions, they both answered them. _

_Like reflections on a mirror, they lifted their hands and attempted to touch each other, but only her hand made it through the thin pane of darkness that separated them; his hand stayed on the side from which it had attempted to cross. _

_Now, _she_ tilted his head, _he_ blinked with surprise; _he_ soon understood, _she_ lost all rationality; they both asked questions, they both answered them. _

What has he done to me?

**What has she done to me?**

_All in a dreadful silence._

Semper sub silentio.

_Always in silence._

xx

The first glance Jill and Wesker exchanged after those bizarre dreams of their own was like the verdict of the sentence. . It told them what they needed to know, it gave them they answers they sought; it made them understand. To know of each other's intentions had been their objective.

Now, both of them knew.

They avoided talking to each other during the next two days: there was nothing that needed to be said. If they talked, they talked; if they acted, they acted; if they felt, they felt; if they understood, they understood.

_Semper sub silentio._

xx

_**August 15th, 2009**_

_[…] Keeping in mind who I am has been hellish these days. Around him, I feel different, driven by some kind of uncontrollable force, and it all seems irrational. It looks like I'm not thinking, that I'm acting only out of impulse. I keep a cold demeanour, sharp and occasionally caustic, but it's killing me. I want to be at ease, but it's impossible with Wesker around. I'm not sure if I will stay true to my words; this seems like an endless chase after the unattainable._

_And those dreams I had... They were flashbacks, I know, but they were very different. There were details which I would've surely remembered, but why didn't I do so before? The last one wasn't like a flashback; it was something... something very strange, I can't explain it. A sensation of eagerness still lingers, and I don't know why I fell that eagerness in the first place; I can't tell. I guess that only time will._

XX

Jill laid the pen down, rubbed her temple and shook her head to keep the drowsiness from taking her away to dreamland so soon. Out of instinct, she glanced at her left, finding Wesker's seat empty; of course, he'd left an hour earlier, so there was no point in wondering where he was. In spite of that, one specific detail came to Jill's mind, a detail that made her think about her current situation: the dreams of that night. It had all been so different, every dream showing her a past moment of her life, each moment more different than the other. What was weird? _He_ was in all of them.

When it came to antagonistic concepts, she didn't know if to call her dreams that. In one she had relived the moment when she had tried to escape from Wesker after the Spencer State, in the next she'd heard him claim her as his possession, in the next it had all gone topsy-turvy: the unimaginable had happened. Jill remembered the only words spoken in the dream, the words that triggered a light throbbing in her head.

"_You've got control now, not me..."_

What was she in control of?

Her eyes caught sight of the chess board upon a shelf, and Jill shook her head, remembering how well -and as how Wesker had put it, fairly- he had won the game. Her defeat had left her with a bitter taste in her mouth not because of just losing the game, but she had the nagging feeling that he'd taken a step closer to... closer to _what,_ exactly? Jill felt as if Wesker was many, many steps ahead of her and the only thing she could do was keep catching up with him; even so, she knew she would never reach him.

She decided it was time to get some rest; after all, she'd spent the last few hours awake and in spite of not seeing the outside world, she could tell it had gotten late. And so, Jill made a brisk exit from the office and walked up the hall, heading to her quarters... the quarters of the late Excella. It still got under her skin to be lodged in the same room Excella had, but unless she wanted to sleep on the floor, she would have to keep her complaints to herself. Better not look a gift horse in the mouth, right?

Jill had just gone -quite absentmindedly- past a door when she heard a loud noise from inside, a noise that had sounded much like the groan of someone in pain. Frozen in place, Jill stared at the door in sudden disbelief: was she right in front of Wesker's room? It had to be; if not, this one would also be empty. It looked as if he was suffering because of some reason she didn't know; was it because of a dream?

_Although why would that affect him? I've never heard him so distraught before... What's happening? _

Ginger, Jill placed a hand upon the handle before berating herself for doing that: what was she trying to do? Go inside and see if he was alright? Why would she do that in the first place?

_If there's a time to obtain more answers, this is the time. On with it, Jill!_

With renewed resolution, she carefully opened the door as another groan cut through the silence, and she approached his figure on tiptoe. For a moment, she was surprised: never in her life had she seen Wesker in such a state. His features contorted with pain and despair without relent, his skin was drenched with sweat and when Jill laid the back of her hand upon his forehead -still ginger- she was horrified to see how feverish he had turned: he was literally burning up.

_Go, do something, Jill!_

_I can't, I can't, he's my enemy! I'm not taking care of him! I shouldn't be concerned in the first place!_

_Stop with the foolishness: it's either him or Chris! You chose! Snap out of it, Jillian, and follow your instincts. What do they tell you?!_

To help Wesker.

Without thinking it twice, Jill spun on her heels and made for the door; she hadn't moved an inch when a hand stopped her, gripping her upper arm tight. In that moment, Jill was completely sure that she'd pass out sooner or later. She remained in silence, unmoving, hearing his calm, slow breathing and letting out a sharp breath when the grip loosened a bit. Jill closed her eyes tightly without resisting the urge of closing them, even though she had to keep them open in case something happened.

Before nothing else took place, Jill half-turned, only to find Wesker staring at her with his piercing blue gaze. Jill held it with slack courage, feeling as if she were about to start shaking at any moment, but what he did left her even more shocked than she already was: with a smirk that showed what little sense of humour he had at the moment, Wesker said,

"Since when have you been stalking me?"

Jill felt her cheeks warming up at a fast rate, but kept silent.

_This is NOT gonna be good. Let's hope death is pleasant._

_

* * *

_

A/N: So, any guesses? xDDDD This is not going good, right? *sarcastic* Let's see your opinions in your reviews and the votes. I'm up to put up the poll!

Reviews are appreciated!^^


	15. Chapter XV: Alice

**Author's Note:** Fine then, early updates. Since I really couldn't wait to update -and seeing the results of the poll, I was glad it turned out like that- I'm going to change the pace and go Thursdays and Mondays; it seems a better way. So, most of you wanted development, others told me it was good. Well, if you wanted development, here you have it xD It's much longer and updates will keep getting like that.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs.**

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XV

Alice

_'Guess, if you can, and choose, if you dare.' Pierre Corneille_

"_Since when have you been stalking me?"_

_Jill felt her cheeks warming up at a fast rate, but kept silent._

This is NOT gonna be good. Let's hope death is pleasant.

XX

"Since never," Jill replied with a ginger tone. "I just thought I'd heard something, that's all."

"You never lied well," he said as he exchanged a long look with her, his eyes unwilling to leave hers. It'd be great to gauge her reaction, see how to adapt to it. Finally, Jill lowered her gaze at her arm and Wesker understood: he let go of her arm and sprung out of bed, choosing to stand on the opposite side. He needed to keep his distances.

"Are you... feeling fine now?" Jill inquired, still hesitant. It was the first time in a very long while that Wesker felt a pang of uneasiness, and something told him to listen to his instincts, not his mind. Wesker kept his impassive demeanour and his ever-present smirk, but not willingly.

"Was that actually concern?"

Jill seemed upset. "Unless you want to take it as cruelty, yes, it _is _concern... but slight." A short silence followed her words, a silence in which Jill seemed to be holding back the words she itched to say. Finally, she did. "I mean, you were burning up! And.. to tell the truth, it was out of instinct. I didn't even stop to think; well, maybe I did, but I didn't listen. I... had to see if there was something I could do."

Wesker was now convinced that there was no way around it: she was getting somewhere, and she'd gotten there first. It was time for him to reach the same conclusion, as antagonistic and foolish as it was.

"I appreciate the effort but, as you can see, I'm fine now," Wesker said with nonchalance. By the look of how Jill's brow furrowed ever so slightly, Wesker could tell she had been expecting a different answer. What was she expecting though?

"Can I ask what happened?" Jill asked, gesturing at him with an air of curiosity and concern -_true_ concern, as Wesker could see. He had been correct when he'd said she didn't lie well: this time was one of them. He hesitated at first; talking about something like his mind and what nightmares assailed it was a difficult topic to speak about, one he always avoided. Jill was persistent and wouldn't go down without a fight, as one would say. In the end, he decided to reply: he had to keep his promise, didn't he?

"Just a restless sleep, nothing more," he spoke in a low voice, and then he noticed he was still being edgy and cold. "What's happened today happens often."

Wesker gazed at Jill, on whose face had appeared another frown, and the gleam in her eyes told him there was something she wanted to ask him. The question burned in her gaze, and she then put it into words.

"Mind if I ask you something?"

_And here it comes, but I can see she's afraid... and so am I. We're both afraid of the answer I'll give, and I also fear the question. I can't let it get to me though; I've faced worse._

Wesker nodded. "Do so. I've missed answering your questions, each one curiouser and curiouser."

This seemed to bring a faint smile to Jill's features, but it was gone as soon as it came. In apparent and slight annoyance, she clicked her tongue. "That's another reason that leads me to ask the question."

"What?" Wesker asked. "My sense of humour?"

"Exactly," Jill said with a nod of her own. "Remember when I told you I had seen you different? It's just that... there's something I can't understand about all this."

"What is it that you can't understand, if I may ask?" Wesker inquired, tilting his head.

_Don't, don't, don't-!_

"Why are you like this?"

Wesker didn't dare to avert her gaze out of fear of self-humiliation; he couldn't avoid such a question, even though it was what he desired to do, and with all his might. Unconsciously, he grew tense and a knot of nervousness caught in his gut. Why the change? Wesker already knew the answer to that inquiry and knew about its consequences if applied to reality.

_Because there was a time when I had harboured feelings for her, feelings as antagonistic as white and black, of foolishness as vast as the gap between Heaven and Hell. All those feelings soon transformed into hate as who I hated the most took her away._

_I'm not ready to tell her this yet... not after all she went through because of me. I tortured her, I corrupted her, I know I even killed a part of her; the Jill Valentine I knew isn't there anymore. I couldn't have enjoyed it more, because this was all going to go and give Redfield the hardest of times; he'd have to endure the most intense of psychological tortures so far. And I wanted it, I wanted to see him suffer._

_Why hasn't it been the same with her?_

Banishing those thoughts from his mind, Wesker said at last, "I don't know." No sense beating around the bush.

"Look, I mean it!" she shot back. "How wouldn't you know?"

"I'm afraid that's a question that will have to wait. I guarantee that you'll get the answers soon." Jill seemed disappointed again, but then she shrugged after a short moment.

"That's odd."

"What is?"

"That you've accepted to tell me without lying out any complaints," she explained with an air of incredulity. "You surprise me at times."

_What is she saying? What are we **both** saying, for that matter?! It's as if we don't care anymore! Well, I myself don't care now._

"When it's an answer I can get some benefit out of, I say it," Wesker said with a mild chuckle, "and I've seen quite a benefit: you'll have to do the same."

Jill's breath hitched. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me; I believe I made myself clear enough, didn't I?" Wesker posed, natural. Jill pursed her lips, her gaze looking everywhere but towards his own, and then chuckled. Such unusual reactions: why?

"Come Hell or high water?" she asked, cryptically, but Wesker knew how to deal with enigmas like those. With a nod, he gave his answer. After a few seconds of silence, she asked, "Is there anything else I can do?"

Wesker shook his head. "Yes: don't be so quick. Let some time pass by, and you might catch the fastest of hares. Think about it; you'll see I'm in the right track."

"All... right, I guess I can figure out some meaning out of it," she agreed, turning for the door. Before she made her exit, Jill locked gazes with him once again and then, before he could do anything about it, she left and closed the door softly behind her.

Confusion was the only thing Wesker was left to rest with.

xx

**August 21st, 2009**

Eight days went by since their arrival to Africa, seven since the night when dreams and nightmares had haunted Wesker's mind, six since all was done in silence.

_Semper sub silentio._

"_I'm afraid that's a question that will have to wait. I guarantee that you'll get the answers soon."_

'Soon' had been an overstatement.

Ever since that night, Wesker avoided coming into contact with Jill for as long as it was possible. The day when Jill had watched him dream, he'd woken up with the solid idea of making up for his mistakes; he'd been too careless when around Jill. Careless, careless, careless and careless; there was no other word to use. Keeping his distances worked wonders when it came to fixing his broken ego; Wesker had stooped too low.

Admitting to give answers? To reply to questions about his feelings, his personality? To answer questions about changes of heart, of why certain emotions were unknown to him? Why had he agreed to do that?!

"_Yet another one of the _many _things you and I have in common."_

Wesker had said that to her, and he'd delighted in it. He still remembered the joy of seeing and feeling her despair as it seeped through every pore of her body; he had even been able to smell her fear and her despair. Still, he could find no-one else to lay the blame on than Redfield, the man who had made Wesker lose his sanity. It had been such a constant fight, tense and hard, that Wesker had done everything in his hand and more to end the fight. In a way, he succeeded; in another, he inevitably failed.

Jill had been his only means to put an end to that fight, as antagonistic as it sounded. Torturing Jill near breaking point had been hard, wonderful; had required a lot of effort, it had been easier than snapping one's fingers. Eventually, so much antagonism had gotten to him; there was always so much one person could take. His somewhat healed mind had told him 'This is it; you've taken enough'. But Wesker didn't want to stop taking it; in fact, he had to do it, he had to endure it. Otherwise, he'd be as weak as the rest of the people around.

But if Jill's mind was as injured as his own, then why had she been as strong as she was before? To top it off, her mind would've had to be fractured, wouldn't have been able to keep going in the precarious state Wesker had left it in; why was she still like before? She had set her own limits; why was she acting according to them and had even been stronger than Wesker would've ever been? That's what bothered him. If there was someone stronger than him, it meant he was weak, and a weakness was something he couldn't allow himself to have. Despite that, everyone had a weakness, even himself. And after so long, after refusing to have weaknesses of his own, Wesker understood what his own weakness was.

It had been his strength, his conviction.

That there was no room for empathy, that emotions were useless traits of the human soul. Banishing them from his soul had been essential, an indispensable task to fulfil, but that was the strength that had been his downfall. Surges of unexpected emotions were horrible, left one shaken, just like it had happened to Wesker many times throughout his life. Although that had kept him strong, it had also dealt a blow to his fragile self.

And all these thoughts, Wesker knew, were thoughts of someone who was _truly_ insane.

He let out a long sigh, closing his notebook and turning back to the PG samples he was preparing.

The incursions to the underground garden and the caves had been despicably monotonous, so Wesker found thinking and musing the only methods to keep himself busy. The more he thought, the more conclusions he came to... and the more quirks he found about himself.

"_You're making me fancy a bit of introspection, hm?"_

The moment when he'd asked Jill that question came back to his mind in a flash, and Wesker smirked as he waited for the rain to seep through the crack in the ceiling of the large cavern.

_Ah, Miss Valentine, if only you knew where your words have taken you..._

The incursions required long trips to the underground garden, thorough and tense research, early rising and not enough sleep... but of course, this time he could mix business with amusement -just to avoid thinking about something else. It had all involved Jill Valentine.

Wesker had allowed himself the luxury of returning to the Tricell facility during the night and strolling through the long, well-lit halls of the building. There had been many times when he'd stumbled across Jill, but she had not noticed him being there; Wesker still knew how to be stealthy, of course. At first, she hadn't shown herself to be very upset about his absence -she'd always known of his prolonged absences and, as she herself had said, frustration would be pointless.

But on the fifth day without news from him, Jill started to grow uneasy with concern. And he'd seen it: he'd seen the traces of genuine concern across her features, he'd seen her cursing and insulting him out of nervousness, and Wesker had decided to let some more time go by. He had the feeling though that the more time that went by, the worst it'd be for him. Let her anxiety grow: Jill would receive his answers with much more expectations, and her hesitation towards revealing her own answers would disappear.

Wesker soon heard the echo of the raindrops falling upon the Progenitor flowers, the unrelenting 'Stairway to the Sun', and allowed himself to close his eyes as he listened to the sound with care.

_Semper sub silentio._

xx

**August 23rd, 2009**

The same moment he stepped through the door of the control room, Wesker received a pleasant surprise: no scenes,no frustrated exclamations, only a very calm Jill who was sitting on the couch near the control panels, her bright gaze fixed upon a small notebook on which she was writing at a fast pace, her brow furrowed in concentration. With a smirk, Wesker recognized the notebook, the _second_ notebook in her hands. Such a gift a certain someone had left her...

Gently, Wesker knocked twice upon the metal door, calling Jill's attention in mere seconds. They remained in silence, Jill blinking a few times in surprise before speaking,

"I had given up on you. I never thought you were going to come back, if you want me to be honest," she remarked as she closed both notebooks and stood up in front of him. "Where were you?"

"Why the curiosity?" Wesker asked in return as he went past her and propped himself against the consoles. "The least of your concerns should've been my whereabouts; what's this odd reaction of yours?"

"They have been one of my concerns, let me tell you," Jill snapped with a tinge of humour to her voice. "I still didn't get my answers, and I've been waiting for them."

"The answers, yes; that slipped my mind," he replied, making his tone sound purposefully absentminded. Jill folded her arms across her chest and frowned.

"Liar; it has been something you've thought about, hasn't it? You wouldn't have left if it wasn't like that." Wesker shook his head as the only response he had to give and then Jill shook her own, this time in disappointment. "In any case," she then piped up, "look what I found lying around... around my room, in fact."

_The notebook; that notebook whose owner she still claims to not know. Oh, how naïve of her; can't she open her eyes?_

Taking the notebook from her hands, Wesker skimmed through the pages in a couple of seconds and then handed it back to her. Jill kept silent, the tension spiking somewhat.

He was sure Jill had suspected he had already noticed the change in her behaviour when she was around him but, lately, it seemed as if that forced strong demeanour of hers had slowly faded away, showing the Jill she indeed was. To his chagrin -and maybe, amusement-, there was only one thing to do when it came dealing with Jill: speculation. There was no way to know if the changes had been genuine or if she was yet again pretending to be herself. Wesker's only option was to enter her mind and pry out her thoughts... and in that, he was extremely skilled.

_Let's put a finger on the wound now, see if it stings._

"Do you know who it belongs to?" Wesker asked, inwardly laughing as she shook her head.

"Not yet, but I'll find out soon: I've seen this handwriting somewhere..." she mused out loud as she half-turned away from him. "Oh, do you know?"

_And this is when I evade the question._

"I've never seen it before, so I'm afraid I can't answer this particular question," he replied with a flicker of his hand. "I can see it's a bit bizarre and not a lot of things are easy to decipher."

"There might be something else in the clues I have jotted down, like mentions to the language of flowers and what have you; maybe I haven't looked thoroughly enough." She then looked a bit crestfallen and contemplative, and Wesker decided to change the subject before all went to worse. It was all about leaving clues behind without actually spilling the beans so soon; a bit more of time needed to go by.

"I'm going to check up on Redfield. Care to accompany me?" he asked with a flicker of his hand. Right that instant, Jill's gaze seemed someone else's, and she nodded. With that, they both exited the control room and headed for the labs in the lower level.

But when they got there, they found Sherry's assistant, James, smiling at them... and a conscious Chris sitting on the examination table behind him.

_What the hell is he doing here? He wasn't supposed to come... Sherry, I hope you have answers for this for me once we get back._

Wesker found himself showing more disconcert than intended and Jill let out a low gasp in shock. It was impossible: Chris, already conscious? The tests had said it would still take him a week to recover consciousness!

_No, the tests were correct... Oh, bugger, would you look at his eyes? They're just like mine now... and that slouching, that apparent drowsiness: u__nmistakeable signs of P30 administration... but why were the samples still here? Unless... he brought them here himself, and he didn't even bother to say he was coming._

James stepped aside, the smile not disappearing from his features, and they both saw Chris was already standing up, his head lowered and arms limp.

"How the hell did you get here?" Jill demanded, adopting a defensive stance. James rolled his eyes, as if Jill had formulated a rhetorical question.

"I sneaked into the plane," he simply said. A short silence reigned, silence during which Wesker tensed almost inhumanly: he knew that sooner or later, Chris would attack.

And it was sooner than expected indeed.

"Christopher?"

James' voice worked as the perfect outer stimulus. At an astonishing speed, Chris lunged forward, having covered half the distance between them in mere seconds, but Wesker still preserved some of his skills. After making sure Jill was far from danger, he dashed forward at almost the same speed as his opponent and delivered a fierce drop-kick square in his chest... a move that didn't do much to stop Chris. He only skidded backwards, unfazed by the kick, and then kneed Wesker in the gut with such force that now Wesker got another chance of understanding the concept of excruciating pain.

Chris didn't relent and thrust Wesker against the floor with just a light push to his chest. Then, what both Jill and him dreaded. Chris approached Wesker leaving behind a mere black blur and drew back his foot to kick him again, and that would prove fatal: knowing how little force Chris had to muster to kick _hard_, Wesker didn't doubt that Chris would be able to snap his neck with only a pat. Before he could do so, Wesker rolled to one side and sprung to his feet, focusing on Chris' hunched figure.

_He still can't keep up with his body weight, that's the reason behind the buckling of his knees. Everything is clear: he must see the world in hundreds of frames per second now... just like I did. The surges of adrenaline during combat adjust one's vision to allow optimal performance in tense situations like this one. The P30 must wear off soon; it's always metabolized too quickly. _

Out of instinct, he glanced to his right and caught sight of James fleeing the room. Jill sprinted towards the door across the room, dashing past Wesker before exclaiming,

"Don't you dare kill him!",

which was something at which Wesker smirked with genuine humour.

_Well, I'll try... as long as he doesn't kill _me _first._

With a mild frown and a killer sense that didn't fail to take over every time he had Chris in his sight, Wesker adopted a defensive stance, waiting for Chris to make his next move before the effects of the chemical wore off. Smirking, he dashed forward at the same time as Chris, engaging in an initial fistfight that was soon followed by a fierce fight with only kicks.

And speaking of kicks...

_I'm going to get a real one out of this!_

"Get back here, you bastard!" Jill shouted as she chased after James. He was a fast weasel, Jill had to give him that much, but one she would soon catch. She had been chasing him for a long time now, yet she didn't feel tired in the least; she was a stronger person and she would make it. And this time, Wesker wasn't here to take away her chances of revenge.

To her surprise and fortune, James cried out in pain and toppled over, falling face-first. Jill didn't waste any time: forcing her legs to run faster, she approached James and pinned him against the floor, rendering him immobile. James didn't struggle, only kept impossibly calm... with a syringe in hand. Jill was floored when she found out what had happened to him.

Suicide.

_Then there's nothing else I can do with him. We won't know who he was working for, because he must've been someone's mole. If he was Sherry's assistant, then either she knew and had ignored that fact or was actually unaware of this. But we didn't notice him boarding the plane, and Sherry didn't mention he'd accompany us! Either way, there's no way of figuring that out now. Alright, I'd better return to the lab quickly, lest I find a bloodbath._

Though before doing so, she decided to search James' body for some kind of clue that would prove her suspicions. In the breast pocket of his white shirt, she found a small, neatly-folded piece of paper which she didn't hesitate to open and read. What she found was a quick annotation, something similar to the note Sherry had left her once.

_LFlr, R34, 20-06-11-23_

_What's this? Coordinates, a code? _

She allowed herself a few more seconds to piece it together and came up with the only plausible answer: a date.

_November 23rd, 2006... I don't have much memory of what happened that day, apart from that I knew that I was- _

"_**Because you're mine."**_

Jill shook her head, trying to clear it, and started walking back.

_I'd better keep this; might lead somewhere._

At a quick pace, Jill returned to the lab room and, to her relief, found that the fight between Chris and Wesker had ended without casualties. In fact, Wesker seemed at his calmest and was propped against the wall next to the examination table where Chris was resting once again, his demeanour casual and unruffled. That didn't divert Jill's attention from the few cuts and blood remains in his cheekbone and jaw.

"I didn't kill him," he remarked, funnily stating the obvious. Jill left her hands inside her pockets, taking the opportunity to hide the note within her right one, and approached her companion, being careful not to reveal the discovery that had left her confused.

"Yeah, I can see that, and I guess I should thank you: you can control yourself after all," she remarked, a bit caustic. Whilst she suspected the last sentence had gotten to Wesker -a lot or a bit, it didn't matter-, he seemed not to care about it.

_He can ignore a lot of things, but I'd better watch what I say._

"I have to," he said. "If not, you wouldn't see him breathing here, and you wouldn't be either. In any case, what about James?"

"He's dead. He injected himself with something that caused him to die, I don't know what," she replied, keeping her breathing steady, and looked at Chris. "Is he fine again?"

"Yes, there have been no problems and there won't be. The P30 is metabolized at an incredibly fast rate, so there will be no traces that interfere with anything," he explained, his tone convincing. "I need you to get me something."

"I'm up for the task, before you say anything else," Jill soon piped up. "What's this 'something' you need?"

"Some files and various status reports I keep in a safe place."

Jill couldn't help it: she cocked an eyebrow in scepticism. "Alright, then if this place is as 'safe' as you say, then why are you sending me of all people to get it? Wouldn't that just... ruin the fun, put something at risk?"

"I don't think so. Sooner or later, I'd have to take you there, anyway," Wesker replied, nonchalant.

"So you trust me?"

"Whatever made you assume that?" he said, showing his enjoyment with a short laugh. "Don't make such reckless assumptions, Miss Valentine; they won't get you anywhere. The files I need are in the lower floor, room thirty-four, first shelf on the left. You can't miss it."

"Very well, I'll go fetch them." With that, Jill left the room and headed to the designed destination.

_Holy-! Everything's clicking! 'LFlr' meant 'Lower Floor'; 'R34' meant 'Room 34'! What about the next series of numbers, though? There must be something that can be opened with that combination, like a safe or something... Wait, a 'safe place', he said? That... that can't apply to it: he couldn't have told me something about a safe! I wonder... is this another one of the clues he's leaving behind? But why would he had left this one within James' shirt? __They couldn't be in cahoots; it doesn't make any sense! Unless... unless he was a spy, which does make sense._

Sooner than she expected, she was in front of room 34, which was unlocked, and entered inside as she flicked on the light switch. It was a small study, with shelves to both sides of the room and a sturdy table with many stacks of papers neatly organized. It was somehow cosy, but at the same time unsettling. Reluctant, Jill went in deeper, inspecting the room with care. She found the requested files upon the correct shelf and picked up the folder which contained them, deciding to leave as soon as she could... but she soon remembered the number combination.

_Safe, safe, safe, safe... There doesn't seem to be one here. I guess my assumption was wrong, but I won't discard it. It has to lead to- Hey, what's this?_

Jill came across a few sheets of paper scattered across the floor, sheets of paper she then discovered that were pages of a notebook that had been torn off. With curiosity -something that can kill the cat, as she told herself-, she picked them up and had a quick look at the sentences that were written in one of them. Jill recognized the handwriting right away, almost as if she had seen it her whole life. It was the one in the second notebook she had.

It was Wesker's.

She didn't need more than five seconds to memorize the paragraph that was written, something that left her with a knot in her stomach and a sudden hole in her chest. She left the sheets upon the table and dashed out of the room, not caring if she left the door open or closed. Why would something like a paragraph cause her to be so shocked, so nervous?

Because she had just found out what the clues pointed at, because she knew why there were so many similarities between him and the person described through the notebook's words, because now she knew she needed no answers from Wesker: it was all piecing itself together. It was almost impossible, and one of their conversations suddenly came to her mind like a frightening cold breeze.

XX

"_What did you expect me to do?" Jill exclaimed with a light snort. "After all these years and all the effort, you wouldn't be expecting a pleasant reaction. What would you have wanted me to do? Smile at you, perhaps?"_

"_Not then."_

"_What about now?"_

"_I'd appreciate if you did. After all, I'm not intent on harming you, not as I was before."_

_**xx**  
_

_Calm down, Jill, calm down! But... but it's-it's impossible, it's unbelievable... Good God, I'd better steady my breathing or I'll be about to hyperventilate! I never thought I'd get like this, I know how to keep a cool head!_

**_xx_**

_Sherry had left her that small note, and also learnt that it was Wesker who it had referred to..._

_The language of flowers._

XX_  
_

Jill stopped her accelerated walk and leaned against a wall, breathing in and out loudly and clutching the folder to her chest with unconscious strength. Unable to keep herself on foot, she flexed her knees and sank to the floor, leaving the folder beside her and dropping her head as the nervousness -perhaps even panic- subsided. A few minutes later, she heard steps approaching her position but she didn't bother to lift her head; she knew very well whose steps those were.

_No, go away, go away, go away!_

"_Why can't I let go? Why can't you let go of me, dammit?! Why can't you disappear?!" _

Tears threatened to spill once again when she thought her demeanour would belie her feelings. Jill heard the shuffle of soft cloth near her, but she still didn't move an inch. In fact, a sudden weariness overcame her and rendered her weak, rendered her muscles unable to work like they should. She was left only with willpower, willpower she didn't even use to look up.

"What's wrong?" To her surprise, his voice didn't sound too harsh, but obviously not too gentle either. She _refused_ to lift her gaze at him and allow him to see the truth, because she knew it was living in her eyes, burning like some kind of flame.

"I just... I just felt a bit sick, that's all," Jill lied, hoping it'd sound convincing. Judging by Wesker's silence, she knew he was distrustful. "Sorry if I took too long. Here." Rubbing her eyes with her fingers -completely to avoid looking at him-, she picked up the folder with her free hand and lifted it up for him to take it.

"Did you just apologize?" Wesker inquired as if it had been the oddest thing in the world. Jill decided against standing up, but then she did as she wanted and gave a weak nod.

"But don't think it's been my intention," she replied without even caring what words left her lips. When she opened one of her eyes, she caught sight of a smirking Wesker who had taken care of his trivial wounds. She tried to keep the surge of rage that coursed through her under a leash, and she did it with great difficulty.

"Given the circumstances, I would say it _is _unnatural, and even more if it's coming from you," he said, his smirk widening to something close to a smile. "Besides, I hadn't suspected it would be your doing. As I said, no room for apologies."

"Especially when it's not me, but _you_!" Jill exclaimed, soon regretting what she had said.

"It's me, in what way?" he inquired next. A bolt of surprise struck Jill, almost rendering her immobile, but this wasn't the time to withdraw: she was treading on thin ice, it didn't matter anymore if it broke or not. She stood firm and tilted her head downwards.

"That'll have to wait," Jill replied in the same way he had done days ago.

"Fair enough. Given the time it is, I'd suggest you get some rest but alas, the choice is up to you."

_What is with his mood swings? One moment he looks ready to kill me, and the next he's asking about my well-being! I don't know if to- Ah, what the hell... Right now, it's better to go with the flow; I'll be risking my neck much less._

"No, I believe I should," Jill intervened, keeping her voice steady. "It's been a bit of a tense day and it's worn me out. You should get some rest too; there's not much we can do now." Her breath suddenly hitched when she realized what she had said.

_It's not concern, it's not concern... God, am I really worrying about him?_

"Are you really concerned about me?" he said as if he had read her thoughts. "You _are_ one of the oddest people I've ever met, and you inevitably keep amusing me once in a while. I won't keep you any longer; go and rest."

Jill remained silent, for a few moments unmoving, and then left for her room at a quick pace -_Careful! Not too quick_-. Once she was sure she was out of his sight and earshot, Jill broke into a run up the hall, imagining the Devil was chasing her without relent so as to have more energy than the one she had. The adrenaline even made tears sting at her eyes, but there was no time to shed them... _there was no time_.

Sooner than she expected, she came across the door to her room, crossed it and slammed it shut behind her, pushing against the imaginary weight of the Devil's body that was trying to break down the door and catch her, torture her, _kill_ her.

_It's all in my head, it's all in my head..._

Unable to resist any longer, Jill sank to the floor once again, shedding the tears she had refused to spill for so long. It was like the dream Alice wanted to wake up from but, no matter what she thought or did, Wonderland was still there. Jill was still falling down the rabbit hole, soon to touch the bottom and end her endless fall.

"_We're all mad here,"_ the Cheshire Cat would've said. But the question still lingered.

Was _she_ mad, too? She didn't have to fear; _Jill_ didn't have to fear: many times, the sanest were the insane.

Following her insane instincts and her insane conviction, Jill ventured out of her room, on a quest to find whom she considered to be as mad as a March Hare. As she walked, she smiled.

_I'm already in the bottom of the rabbit hole; now, I just need to find the right door to cross. I _am_ mad, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten myself into this mess. How to get out of it though without paying... it's not possible. I'm going to find out; even though the truth is cruel, it's better than ignorance._

xx

The underground garden was the only place he could now call safe, since it was quite far from everything and everyone. It gave him some peace of mind and serenity to arrange his thoughts again, piece them together and secure them. But as he stared at the sliver of star-strewn sky he could see through the crack in the cavern's ceiling, Wesker found it impossible to keep his mind from becoming a mess.

For the first time in aeons, Wesker felt troubled... and because of emotions, no less. They still gave him a hard time, even though he knew and had accepted not too long ago that he wasn't going to be the one he was before his second death. The human mind was one of the most simplest and most complex of things that existed; there was no denying that fact. And it was because of that fact that he had such a strong grasp on everything that concerned a person's mind, but he also felt his grasp on everything that concerned _his own_ mind was still a bit slack.

_Should I actually let everything come, see if I can handle it? No, that would destroy everything I have, reduce it to simple pieces I wouldn't be able to put back together... But maybe it's because I'm reluctant towards change? To hell with it, yours truly is ready for what's to come. Envy can be a powerful ally when directed towards the right person._

So many thinking to do, so many answers to search for... and so little time.

_And speaking of answers, why hasn't she insisted upon the matter lately? She doesn't have those sudden changes of mind; that, I know for sure._

His mind went back to his previous thought: envy, a powerful ally? That much was true, but why think about it? Had he really been envious? If that had been the case, of whom? Oh, he knew very well who he was envious of, and he still was; a bit less now, but that envy still lingered.

_I'd say you're a lucky bastard, Redfield, but it's my turn to feel lucky now. I'm going to take her away from you, just like you did; not because of revenge, because I want to._

The ground behind him crunched under someone's feet, and Wesker took a very deep breath as he closed his eyes. Oh, how well he knew who was coming... the only person who could actually walk so silently, so lithely. He tore his gaze away from the sky and turned to his visitor: Jill Valentine in person.

"What are you still doing here? I thought you had decided to escape," Wesker said as if there was nothing wrong; remarks like those tended to come out whenever he was uneasy. Jill shook her head with a short sigh.

"I can't get any sleep," she replied, her tone crestfallen, "and as I can see, so can't you." Jill then gazed at the sky. "Looks like a nice night. Think you could use some company?"

_What did she come here for? To humiliate me, perhaps?_

"I don't see why not," he said in agreement, "but I have the feeling something's not right."

"You know I know, don't you?" asked Jill, fixating him with a steel gaze. After a few moments of silence, Wesker nodded. "Why?"

"I told you before: so that we understood each other," he replied, forcing himself not to snap at her and end the conversation; it was almost killing him.

"But if I told you I already understand?" Jill asked, not moving from her place.

"Then I'd say that's a lie," he said promptly. "You haven't crossed the last door yet. You're about to, though: who is this person you were left clues about?"

Even though Jill replied a second later, it felt like an endless silence to Wesker. Jill's serenity didn't disappear from her features, her gaze cold and resolute but also concerned and sorrowful. The answer came.

"It's you."

The choice had been made. It was now or never.

_**Keep walking and walking, don't mind the pain,  
**__**If not, you'll see everything will have been in vain.  
**__**Turn the handle, open the door,  
**__**it's all inside, you can't ask for more!**_

_****__****__****__**

* * *

**______A/N: So, we have a bit more of progress: they're both starting to understand, there's another mole (fortunately dead now xD) amongst them and Chris is getting back up. Don't worry, we'll get to him soon. And if anybody seemed OOC here, tell me: I have my reasons for setting everything like I did._

_______Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	16. Chapter XVI: Equinox

**Author's Note:** Fine! Moment of the revelation, the one you've patiently waited for all this time since February xDD Since I was told not to drag out the story more than it should, here you go: much longer update with a hella lot development... but finally, the upshot. I've got nothing more to say other than enjoy, because this is when the triangle starts.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs  
Note: The poems are written by yours truly, so they're mine! xD **

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* * *

**

XVI

Equinox

_'In literature, as in love, we are astonished at the choice made by other people.' Andre Maurois_

"Is this one of the weaknesses you mentioned? You know, gazing up at the sky or like writing thoughts down?"

Jill turned her gaze to the sky above whilst Wesker left it fixed upon the sea below. They had both decided to ascend to the metal landing that overlooked the bay, both in need of a bit of fresh air; almost ten days kept underground -nothing compared to three years- didn't do much good. Jill had received the coldness of the ambient with an easy-going expression and a faint smile, a smile she had soon erased when she apparently remembered something unpleasant.

Wesker shrugged at her question, noticing how curious and odd it was to have her standing by his side with all normalcy, leaning against the railing with something akin to nonchalance. She seemed unfazed and almost ignorant of the fact that it was Wesker whom she was with, speaking with him as if she were speaking with her best friend. Something had made her change.

"It seems you had a look at my notes," he said, "since I never mentioned 'weakness' in front of you. You're a curious one, although I wouldn't have recommended doing it behind my back."

Jill glanced at him, her expression one of uneasiness. "You... left a notebook in my reach and there were some pages strewn across the floor. I picked them up and I read what they said; it was out of instinct. I noticed that it had more than the other one, and I lost my composure when I read it. After that, I realized. But I thought I told you... whatever it took, right? You're not any different."

A soft breeze blew towards them, a breeze that brought Wesker some words to speak in return. How she had caught his attention... but what was he thinking? Going for the impossible? Too reckless... although that's what he wanted to tell her with that blue rose he had left her. And indeed, it was impossible.

Wesker smirked. "That's correct. Another one of the traits we have in common." Jill frowned at him, somewhat doubtful and still curious.

"Why do you consider this a weakness? Many people do this; I, in fact, do it a lot... that is, when I have the time," she said, her gaze narrowing slightly. "It's actually nice. It helps you clear your head and think about whatever you want to. Is it something _that _bad for you?"

Wesker allowed the silence to sink in between them and lifted his gaze at the sky.

"You can reply, I won't get snappy," Jill prompted with a chuckle.

"I was only thinking, and I'm surprised you can stand being so close to me. I was thinking you were suspecting I'd push you over the edge should the chance present itself," he said, still smirking. "You know, for old times' sake?"

Jill sighed, a look of uneasiness passing through her features.

"You have, in a figurative way," she said, somehow casually. Wesker remained in silence once again, watching her give a low sigh and noticing the sad gleam in her eyes. "Sounds stupid and odd, doesn't it?" she then added with a bitter chuckle, looking at him. Wesker showed himself to be taken aback, something which made Jill stare at him in disbelief.

"So you're with your worst enemy, risking your life and you're concerned about if that sounded stupid and odd?" he asked, sensing how his voice showed both his amusement and incredulity. "As I said, you're one of the oddest people I've ever come across. And how have I pushed you over the edge, if I may inquire?"

"You've made me do something I never thought I would, although I guess you've seen it by now," she replied, breaking eye contact. "It's just... odd, yes, but I didn't see any other way around it. The changes in my behaviour were because I was... trying to come to terms with... with you and all you are." She eyed him gingerly. "Yes, even though you never asked for that... directly. These are the answers you were looking for, about my intentions."

"Surprising."

"I know, right?" Jill said, agreeing. "I knew that whilst I was with you, frustration wasn't going to help; it was a matter of going forward or falling back and failing. Besides, it wouldn't have helped me achieve what I had planned."

Still ginger, she met his hidden gaze and waited for his answer, although none came. As reluctant as he was to admit it, Jill had done something to him, had changed him somehow, had aroused a certain feeling he couldn't quite describe. No, it wasn't because of the power some women had over men or the influence they had on some; this was different, this was all because of Jill, Jill and _Jill_... no more, no less.

"Wise thinking," Wesker said at last, "and strange, too. What were you planning, since the very beginning?" Jill visibly hesitated as she shifted, uncomfortable, but then answered,

"It wasn't since the 'very' beginning, but a decision I made not too long ago." She paused, closing her eyes. Wesker felt the need to receive the answer he was looking for, as many times he had, but didn't press Jill any further. Why though? Why would he do that? When he was looking for something, he didn't stop until he got it, didn't care about what others would say or do... but why was he being 'considerate' now, as people would say?

"That decision was knowing about you," Jill said after the silence. "It was the only way I could... get rid of memories and nightmares. I thought I would be able to understand; that is, if you ever said anything. You being so secretive didn't help much."

The reply came as something close to a morbid surprise to Wesker. What the hell had that been just now? Nothing made sense, it still didn't. Even he had it in mind: they were supposed to be enemies! Hell, they _still were_! It was more than evident that hate still resided within both of them, still burned like the inextinguishable flame it was. If that was the case, then why was she trying to get close to him, get to understand him and all he was? Why come to terms with someone like him?

_As I expected, my mind's still not how it used to be. I don't want to seem as if I'm looking for someone that understands me, but what if _she _can?_

"Why the interest?" he then asked, avoiding her gaze. "You must've had a good, solid and sensible reason to do so." Through the corner of his eyes, he saw Jill shrug with slight nonchalance.

"I don't know," she said. "It's a strange feeling, which I think it found its spark a few years ago."

"Even though knowing all I planned to do? Have in mind that I'm still sceptical about your words," Wesker replied, his tone hard. "I haven't been fooled many times but the ones I have did their harm."

"It's not a trick or a strategy to fool you," Jill protested with a grimace, shooting him an intent glare. "I'm being honest; I wouldn't lie about this." She made another pause before saying, "There's something I wanted to ask you: all these clues point to some aspects I already know, but there's not much information. I think it's time I took this a step farther."

And then, the million-dollar question... or questions.

"You must have a past, right? Why is it something you avoid talking about?"

_No, no, she can't know about this. I have to push her away, she won't know about it, she _won't_!_

"What are you trying to accomplish with those pointless questions?" Wesker snapped, his voice harsh and cold. Jill gasped.

_I'm contradicting myself-_

"You don't have to tell me everything!" she exclaimed, straightening with a jolt and trying to find words to speak. "There's-" For some reason, Wesker couldn't stand it anymore; even his patience had a limit, and that limit hadn't been reached. His reaction, he knew, was out of pure frustration.

"You know I won't tell you anything; why did you ask? It's nothing of your concern, so don't bring that up again."

_Just leave me alone!! _he wanted to shout.

Calm, so as to keep himself from showing his frustration more than necessary, Wesker walked away, almost seething. Why was everything returning to his mind? Why _now_? Why had she asked about that? Even though it was something he himself had hinted at, why now? So many questions, so _many_ answers.

"Wait!" Jill called behind him, but he paid no heed to her calls.

_I'm so foolish. Why are the questions always the same?! Why did I get myself into this?! I'm supposed to have a mind to think; why didn't I use it, dammit?!_

Suddenly, he felt Jill's hand closing itself around his wrist, and he swivelled around with a grunt as he shook it off. He certainly hoped that had been instinctive; otherwise... otherwise it would be something that'd haunt Wesker for life.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't intend to-" Jill started, her tone begging, but Wesker scoffed.

"Don't keep going with the sarcasm; I've had enough of it," he said, harsh. Jill looked bewildered, her bright eyes widening.

"It's not sarcasm!" she replied, exasperated. "Dammit, if you wanted to avoid this, then why did you leave all the clues behind? What are you looking for? What do you want?!" In the end, she sighed. "Just... don't misunderstand me, okay? I'm just looking for answers; I need them."

After a long, contemplative pause, Wesker turned his gaze away from her and lowered his head. The decision had been made, the cards were upon the table: now, it was all about flipping the correct ones. It was also like the game of chess: it was Wesker's turn to move.

"_Your eyes have stopped gleaming,"_ someone had once told him. Suddenly, he had an idea, although a very risky one. Why not allow him, the boy whose eyes had stopped gleaming, to tell her? It was also possible that he'd remember something else, too, so why not give it a try?

_Don't you need those answers too? It's about playing for keeps now; take it or leave it. The answers are close: don't waste your chances._

And he didn't.

"Come. It's something someone else should tell you about."

xx

_And the last thing he sees is flames engulfing and destroying his house. They were burning his past, his present, and his future. Now, there was no turning back. From now on, he feels -he _knows_- nothing will be the same. _

XX

"Now you know. Surprised?" Wesker asked as Jill closed the notebook with a face in shock. It was clear she was shaken, taken aback by what she had just read, and she swallowed hard as she clearly struggled to find words to speak. "There's no need to say anything. I decided not to tell you myself, but leave the boy I was to tell you about that."

"That's why... that's why you mentioned the fairness of a boy being taken away from his family!" Jill exclaimed, shooting up from her seat in the couch. Wesker gave a mere nod, gauging her reactions and words. "I think I stumbled across one of these fragments, but I thought it so... terrifying that I was in utter shock."

He had taken her to room thirty-four, his personal study, for the exchange of information she had requested. It had taken a bit of courage, but Wesker eventually allowed her to read his notes from beginning to end, in silence and with no kind of initial explanation. He had seen Jill's expression contort with many emotions, but he hadn't seen hate yet. To his surprise, Jill had even made pauses before continuing to read, her features showing pain and sorrow. Indeed, his story was quite the ironic and cruel drama.

"You were this child?" she managed to say, the shock still unfaltering. "I would've never thought something like-like this would've happened to you."

"I don't need anyone's pity; everyone has their life," he said, shaking his head. "I have to say I was quite upset when I knew about it. Still, there was nothing I could do to remedy it and I carried on with it, like another weight upon my shoulders."

"But... but haven't you ever felt alone?" Jill asked, her brow creasing. At the word 'alone' and at the tone of her voice, Wesker smirked with humour.

"Of course I've felt alone; in fact, it was because I was and still am. It hasn't been something that has affected me though; I'm speaking in a material sense: having others to keep you company, I mean. Knowing I was alone was somewhat of a boost; I didn't need anyone," he explained, his tone slightly bitter. Jill kept silent, seemingly reflecting upon everything he'd said, and looked somewhat contrite.

"Even though all of this was, as I said, so that we understood each other," Wesker continued, "I had an ulterior motive, in fact."

First step: thinking his words carefully.

Jill frowned at him in a curious manner. "What's that ulterior motive?" Her voice was something close to soothing, like music to one's ears, but what was there to like in it? Was there a reason _to_ _like_ _it_, after all? Wesker made his next move.

Second step: daring.

"Reconciliation."

Silence, then, "You're kidding, right?"

Wesker shook his head, a bit baffled by her reaction. "Not in the least. Remember I once said that you and me were both in hell, although you were there for unfair reasons?" As he spoke, he noticed how Jill's features mirrored the horror she was feeling. "That's-"

"No, just... don't, don't continue!" Jill exclaimed, interrupting him harshly.

"Listen to-"

"Leave me alone!" she yelled. "Don't... don't say anything else! You're lying, you're lying! You're merely tricking me!" Wesker frowned, tightening his jaw.

"I'm not, I can assure you," he replied, his voice calm. Jill's features contorted with sadness as the tears left her eyes and she took both hands to her head, lifting her gaze at Wesker and keeping her lower lip from trembling.

"Tell me you're not pretending... It's-It's impossible to believe what you're saying, not after all you put me through, not after all you put _us_ through. Why would you look for something like reconciliation?! You hate me, you hate me with all your might; you're pretending!" Before he could say anything else, she broke into tears, sobbing softly against a closed fist.

_It's been long since I've seen her like this._

"You were my only liaison to Redfield," Wesker explained afterwards as he stepped closer to her. "You were my only means to make him suffer, but I admit you didn't deserve some of what I did to you."

"Some of it?!" she exclaimed, taking one step back as she stared at him with a fierce and angry gaze. "I've been lucky to still be alive; at least, physically. You killed me back there, and I'm sure you enjoyed it, didn't you?!"

"You were my enemy; what did you expect me to say?" Wesker replied, casual. "If we discard everything else, it all comes down to this: I suffered because of you, so I thought it was time you suffered because of me; it's that simple, it was retribution. You're like the double-sided mirror that kept the hatred alive."

"So you're saying it was all _my fault_?" Jill snapped, her features hardening. "You're the only one responsible for using hate as the guide of your actions!"

"Of that, I'm aware, Miss Valentine, but you yourself weren't conscious of how closely you tied Redfield and me together. The hate one of us felt towards one another was always reflected upon you; you were our link. Our hate goes from one of us to you, and from you to the other. Take the years I kept you in captivity as an example: through you, during your time of recovery, my hate was still alive."

Jill remained staring at him in silence, disbelief making her features contort into a grimace. "Then... you're saying I was destined to be the vessel for your hate? That I was... merely an instrument?"

Wesker nodded. "It wasn't a matter of destiny or fate, Miss Valentine. I never truly cared about anyone else; this was all between Redfield and me, just us both. You've felt hated all these years but, in truth, you weren't," he explained with surprising calmness.

_I'm letting everything show; now it's too late to turn back._

"I still remember the joy of seeing and feeling your despair as it seeped through every pore of your body; I was even able to smell your fear," he said, "and I knew all of this would get to Redfield: it would be the most intense of tortures he'd have to endure. You should know that my field of expertise is the human mind, and the chance for twisting Redfield's was at hand. I couldn't waste it."

"You could've just left me out of this," Jill shot back.

"You're probably thinking this was unfair, but there was nothing else I could do. If there is one complex and philosophical relationship in this world, it's the one between me and him," he replied as he lifted his hidden gaze at her. "My cards are on the table and you've seen them. Should we call it quits?"

Jill shook her head, shedding more tears.

"No... I-I can't..." she managed to say, wiping her tears away. "I can't forget all of this... If you didn't hate me, then why did _I_ hate you, huh? Do you think it's because of a senseless reason? Well, it's not, and you should know that. You're not-not getting your way with me..."

Wesker noticed it was almost impossible for her to stop crying, having the feeling the many painful memories were coming back to haunt her once more and torture her without relent. He felt somewhat uneasy and unable to handle the situation. No matter what he did, he knew he'd be the constant reminder; Jill wouldn't forget whilst he was around. There were no senseless reasons behind her hate: the death of S.T.A.R.S., the betrayal, the enmity, the captivity; they were weights upon their shoulders.

"It doesn't just involve me now," she then said, "but it involves Chris, too! When you hurt one of us, you hurt the other- you were even close to maiming us emotionally! I suffered countless of times because of Chris, who suffered because of _you_,and I can't forget that. I can see your intentions, but you know I'm _unable_ to forget. You can't do anything to change that."

"Didn't you said a few moments ago that you would've liked to be left out of this?" he asked in a slight reproaching tone. "Then don't get yourself into it. From now on, this will concern only him and me, and no-one else."

"But it'll keep involving me! Can't you see-?"

"I _can _see. Right now, you're more alone than you want to imagine, because no-one understands you completely."

"And you do?" she shot back, scowling at him in frustration.

"I'd like to say so, yes. If you allow me to say this, why do you think I know you so well?"

"You don't know _anything_ about me," Jill snapped, sharp. Wesker gave a light chuckle. She was hard-headed, alright.

"Everyone says that but, in the end, that's a lie," he replied, amused. "Do you think that only because I don't have anyone to be... emotionally attached to I do not know pain? And _true_ pain, if I may emphasize? Have in mind that it doesn't mean physical pain, but-"

"Psychological pain," Jill finished for him, looking away. "Alone or in company, you will always feel it. If it's not caused for one reason, it'll be caused by the other."

Before he could control himself, Wesker neared Jill and laid both hands on her shoulders in spite of knowing very well she loathed him, and even beyond human levels after that revelation. She remained looking at him, her voice having faded away, in utter disbelief. He couldn't do anything else, not yet.

"The reason behind your pain is loneliness, and you're not quite used to it, correct? You don't have many people who understand how you feel; in fact, nobody would understand," Wesker reasoned, watching how Jill's brow creased in a contemplative frown. "Sometimes, consolation doesn't do much, and it might even make everything worse."

Jill sighed. "And the only place where you find haven from loneliness is someone else," she said.

"When there's no-one to rely upon, it always hurts, doesn't it?" Wesker spoke with a smirk. "There, now you found something else about me. You wanted to know about who I was, right?"

Jill seemed surprised, and Wesker continued, "You need someone to be with. I don't think I'm the best candidate, but I have the initiative. We're both alone; it's your choice first."

For a moment, Jill said nothing, remained thinking. Wesker didn't move his hands from their place and waited for Jill's answer, patient and calm. At last, she nodded as she calmed down, drying her eyes with her sleeve and taking a deep breath.

"You're not the best candidate, that's for sure," she said, her tone ginger, "but if that's your intention... then it's polite to say thanks, isn't it? But I just can't understand! I know you've said this is complex, and I really can't make any sense out of it."

"It _is_ complex," he agreed, a bit absentminded. "There's no need to shed tears anymore, is there? Unless you feel like doing so."

"No! Of course not!" Jill shot back, shaking her head hastily. "I don't know what hit me; I'm sometimes an idiot."

"And you're quite right, I won't argue with you."

At last, after calming down, Jill said, "After reading the notebook, a question hit me. If you don't mind me asking, don't you... don't you have any other memories? Like about your parents or something?"

"That is, if I had them," he said in return, calmly.

"You must've," Jill intervened, "I'm sure of that. Have you tried to remember something else?"

"I have tried, but no memories come back," Wesker said, shaking his head once. "Also, I'm not fond of reminiscing,; it feels odd to do that." Jill lowered her head. "Please, why would you be sad for me? You're supposed to be thinking that I deserve what happened to me."

Jill showed herself aghast, staring at him wide-eyed. "Of course not!" she exclaimed, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Nobody deserves to be taken away from their family. What Spencer did to you was cruel and heartless."

Wesker cocked an eyebrow at her; they _were_ getting somewhere, indeed. "Amusing. Is this pity of some sort?" Jill's grey gaze met his, and Jill crossed her arms, showing him how convinced she was of her words.

"It is. It was unfair," she spoke with a nod, then sighed sadly. "What's fair these days, though?" Her gaze, sympathetic, brought a ghost of a smile to his features; she was catching on and quick.

"True; nice rhetoric," Wesker agreed, dipping his head at her. Then, he frowned slightly. "Are your scars still there?"

Jill seemed a bit surprised at his question, but replied nonetheless the way he wanted her to. "They are, and still unclosed. I don't know how long it'll take them to heal, but I can pull through. I guess yours are still like mine?"

Wesker knew which scars she meant.

"They're slowly healing, yes."

Step three: daring once again.

Wesker then reached for the handle of a drawer and had a small look at it before taking out a familiar object out of it. He knew Jill was observing him with interest and that undying curiosity that lived in her eyes, and he was tempted to smirk again. With as much interest as her, he lifted the object up for Jill to see before turning to face her.

"Also, are these still familiar?" he asked her, intending for the question to sound rhetorical. Jill blinked in surprise before nodding and taking them from his hand. She stared at them before saying,

"They're my tags! How the- Well, how do you _still_ have them? I thought them lost." Though burnt and deformed, her name could still be read.

"I've kept them all these years. Even I am surprised to see they survived the crash; I recovered them in my last moments of consciousness," he explained, feeling a bit uneasy and insecure. Silent, not letting any thoughts cross his mind, he watched Jill give another of her small smiles, but it was also sincere.

"That's neat," she commented as she sat down, Wesker imitating her. "It's kind of you. Why though?"

"Remember that I once told you to hold on?" he asked her, and he received a nod from Jill. "I meant it."

She gasped. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, her voice weaker than before. "Why did you tell me to hold on when you tortured me without relent? It's difficult to understand."

_She's persistent, but it's not unusual for your mind to take time to accept certain things. _

"I told you a mere minute ago. Aside from what I said, every time you fought back, you reminded me of _him_," Wesker said, putting special enraged emphasis in that last word. "I hate him, I despise him with all my might and my sporadic fits of rage were nothing compared to what I truly felt inside. He took everything away from me; the only fair thing was that I took what belonged to him. You'd be my only link to him when you returned with him; I knew he'd suffer... along with you."

"So you took me?" she asked, and he nodded.

_My only way of getting you back._

Jill remained silent before saying, "I read somewhere that you can't hate someone without first hating something about yourself." Wesker tilted his head. "Does that apply to you?"

"I've always hated empathy," he answered, stating it naturally. "People are manipulated because of it, they suffer because of it, they're forced to be something else, something they're not. You've seen who I am, _what_ I am. Sometimes, I can't fight against it and I hate feeling, for example, a heartache."

"You've felt it?"

"Many times," he spoke with a nod, "and every time it felt as if a piece of myself was torn apart. The last time was when I lost a close friend. I've always avoided to think about the past, even though it helps with the future."

Jill frowned, turning her sad gaze to him. "Somebody else would say you're insane or even dub you as a psychopath, but I'm starting to think otherwise: I'd say you have a complex mind. It'll be... hard to cope with all this, but I guess it was good to know." She laid a hand on his shoulder, which startled him. "Is it hate you really feel now?" A smile, a full-fledged smile was spreading across her face; even Wesker was amazed.

"It may be, but something else compensates it," he replied, his words enigmatic. "Everything's a bit clearer now. I'm no psychopath, let me remind you, but I believe that I'm someone who has been in ignorance for... more than I should've. It's almost odd, but this all intrigues me."

"I'm not forcing you," said Jill, "but at least you know a bit more."

Wesker smirked. "Will you stop bothering me about it now?" he inquired, and Jill shrugged.

"Who knows? I'll keep poking you about it if I find out you haven't been sincere with me," she replied with a faint laugh. With a mild chuckle, Wesker replied to her question before another one made its way to his mind. But then she stood up, sighing as she stretched slightly. "I should leave now; you need to rest."

_She's leaving, she's leaving! All of this will have been in vain if you don't say it!_

Step four, final step: doing it.

Before Jill could start for the door, Wesker sprung to his feet and, with a quick but gentle movement, he swung his arms around her, pulling her into the embrace they both surely considered an abstract idea, something impossible, non-existent. He heard her gasp in utter shock but he paid no heed to that, not moving from his position. Even his heart was racing now, as well as his thoughts.

"Wesker..." His name. She'd said it for the first time in almost years.

He shook his head. "Hit me, hate me _more_ than you do, you can even think this is a game I'm playing, but you'll be wrong." He sighed against her ear. "I had to do this; words won't come out nor sound the same."

He meant it: how he felt could only be described through actions and sensations, not thoughts or words that would make it seem like a dream, a fantasy, a _lie_. There was no room for lies now; it was all meant to be genuine, even if Jill wasn't willing to accept it. Wesker had made his move, it was time to see how Jill would counter.

To his surprise, she spun around and embraced him in return, burying her face in his shoulder as her own convulsed as she broke into sobs again. And for the first time in also aeons, Wesker's features contorted with awe as his chest shrank in uneasiness; Jill's crying was like the tune out of a unstrung violin: it was killing him.

All because of emotions, all because of his feelings for her, once again driving him insane.

"Don't lie to me," she uttered, shaking her head slowly. Wesker sighed, tightening his grip around her and withdrawing to look at her. It was then that he realized something had healed, as if there had been a hole in his chest open for too long, a hole which had started bleeding since the word 'loneliness' stuck with him. Wesker left his arms around her waist, taking in every line of her features. She was beautiful; there was no denying that.

"I'm not lying, Jill. Trust me," he asked her, tucking some loose strands of brown hair behind Jill's ear. In return, she reached for his shades, took them off and their eyes met, blue against blue. It made him uncomfortable, but he wasn't one to complain. Those shades had been like the covers of a mirror; now that the mirror had been looked at, there was no point in covering it surface again.

Jill appeared confused. "You didn't say anything," she pointed out, which made Wesker smirk faintly.

"I didn't say anything, no," he echoed, his tone casual. "The mirrors have been revealed, wouldn't you say? Now you know almost everything: the eyes are the mirrors of one's soul. Search for lies, but you won't find any." He paused, allowing her to digest this, then said, "Turn around."

Jill did as he told her, and then Wesker did what he wanted, what he desired, not what he was _forced _to do: he slid an arm around her waist again, left his hand clasping the belt at her trousers and placed the bridge of his nose against the crook of her neck, breathing in really deep. He heard Jill exhaling, tense, something that made him smile. A shiver ran down his spine when Jill's hand pressed itself against his nape as she shifted, still tense and uneasy..

He decided to go even further: slowly, very slowly, he slid the tip of his nose up her neck, indulging in her bittersweet scent. He even felt an impulse that led him to do the same with his lips, and he left them grazing Jill's pale skin, fighting off an urge to dare and taste it. She gave a low gasp, one only Wesker could hear.

"Shh, relax..."

Once again, he inhaled, her scent the most tainting, intoxicating, confusing and alluring fragrance he'd ever sensed, a scent that had captivated him two years ago and that had haunted him till today. The attraction was unbearable, unbeatable: it was complete, total and absolute. All of a sudden and bringing him back from delusion, Jill craned her neck to one side to gaze at him and, after seconds of examining him and softening her features, she said,

"_This_ is what isn't fair."

"What's fair now?" he asked, allowing a smirk to spread across his features. "Tell me why is it that I desire you so much. What have you done to me that I can't control my thoughts?"

Jill said nothing, and neither did he, captivated by her icy eyes. As she turned, Jill met his gaze once again and brought a hand to his jaw, gently going to brush her two main fingers over his lips. Wesker felt his breath hitching as he noticed her leaning in closer. As slowly as her, he did the same, feeling as a magnet about to join its poles with another; he couldn't withdraw, not even if he desired to do so with all his might.

But the past couldn't be changed, never could and never would.

Her lips touched his.

Along with their softness and warmth came pain, pain that grew even more excruciating when Wesker found the strength to kiss her back, just once. Her cold fingertips touched his cheeks before she took them with her hands, brushing her lips against his once again. But before it could all go any further, he stopped her, placing a hand on her neck to keep her away.

"Don't, just... don't. I can't-" Jill's arms found their way around his own neck, her eyes looking into his.

"It's okay, I-I get it," she whispered, shaking her head as she lowered it. "If you want me to-"

_No, it's not that..._

"No, no, I don't want you to _do_ anything. It's just that... it's difficult to accept this. Are you willing to let this all go?"

Jill tilted her head. "Are you?" she asked in return. "Resent will remain, but I can't contradict myself now. I vowed to let it go, to keep the past from haunting me. You said it was my choice to make, and I've made it. Now it's yours.

"Isn't it time you unshackled yourself?" Jill asked, her tone sincere. "I know: I'm weak, and it looks as if I was trying to drag you along with me, but... why is it that you can't see in the light? Why don't you-"

"The light?" Wesker shook his head, giving a light chuckle in both amusement and disbelief. Such pointless metaphors, one that were many times applied to people like him: they were utterly idealistic, and he didn't sit well with idealistic concepts and behaviors. "It doesn't surprise me that someone like you is still thinking the idealistic way. You should be at least a bit biased by now."

Jill looked away, her lips thinning, and Wesker knew what to say next. Walking away from her, he approached his desk and propped himself onto it, watching her with a tilt of his head.

"Well, it's true, I tend to be realistic sometimes," she said, nodding.

"Sometimes?" Wesker chastised. "Well, each one to their own mind, but you should be able to understand me a bit better now, at least."

"I do, yeah. For example, that you can allow yourself a bit of emotion," she said, smiling faintly. "Which reminds me, it's time I asked you a philosophical question; I'm tired of answering them myself." Wesker remained in silence as a go-ahead. "If you say emotions are for the weak and that you hated empathy, then isn't it because you fear them?"

And she did hit a nerve.

Wesker immediately cursed not having covered his gaze again: he could tell that Jill was obtaining all of the answers by just looking at him. He despised to be readable, to be predictable, but if he didn't reply soon, it would be the sign Jill needed to see that she had been right. What to say though? One way or another, he would have to say something and no matter what, he'd end up losing.

In the end, he settled down his nerves and said, "Do you remember when I asked you what was the oddest thing about my gaze?"

Jill hesitated, but nodded. "I do. I still remember that it lacked the gleam it was supposed to have."

"People say that the eyes are the mirror's of one soul. A gaze gleams because there is emotion in the soul, and you saw that mine lacked both things," Wesker replied, avoiding to cross his arms. "This is something I never shared with anybody else, so consider this a privilege."

"What is it that you're trying to say?" Jill inquired, her gaze widening slightly in surprise and alarm.

"I was once beat almost to death," Wesker started, stifling an involuntary shudder as he started reminiscing, "and all because of the eyes you're now staring into. I was merely ten."

Jill's eyes widened further, a faint gasp breaking the following silence. Wesker kept silent for a few seconds more before continuing: even though those memories were faint and bizarre, he could recall what happened that day perfectly.

_How can I still remember?_

"They tested us to see if we had the strength necessary to keep going on through life, and many of my peers were tortured because of their inability to show that strength. My turn came soon, and I was the only one who showed it. I was told 'You made it'. My curiosity was piqued and when I asked what I had achieved, I received a simple answer: that my eyes had stopped gleaming."

"God..." Jill breathed out, and it was the first time Wesker laughed because of her ingenuity. It felt odd to do so, since he had normally chuckled or snickered with mirth. Laughter was something he'd almost forgotten.

"I don't think he's listening, and I also think he never did," he said after his laughter subsided. "Call me amoral and a lost sinner unable to find redemption, but what's called 'faith' never sat well with me." Jill erased the shock in her features and replaced it with amusement.

"Neat words coming from someone like you," she remarked, sarcastic, and then smiled. "It didn't sit well with me either, and it still doesn't."

"Then those words deprive you of the right to call me an amoral bastard," Wesker shot back, raising one thin finger, "because this god millions of people put their faith in has a very sick and twisted vision of good and evil, if I may say so, and you get my drift."

At last, Jill chuckled with mirth. "I don't think we're here to discuss that, are we?"

"We are getting somewhere, after all. Why?" he asked as he neared her and oh, how he intended that question to sound rhetorical. Jill didn't move from where she was and seemed to allow him to be that close to her. They stared at each other long and hard, and Jill gave an answer he himself didn't expect.

"Because we chose to, and it hasn't been because of fate, destiny or whatever you want to call it," she said, facing him, "and I think it was your choice, too, as well as mine."

"Of your decision, you'd have to be sure; of mine, oh, you assume too much." Wesker shook his head once, not taking his eyes off her. "I'll leave you to find out, though; let's see if you find the answer."

In the dim light, Wesker noticed how thoroughly she was examining him, how close they were, how strong his desires were. And then, ignoring his own thoughts, reason, _everything_ there was to pay attention to, he closed the gap between them and placed a soft kiss on her mouth, a kiss that from soft and gentle turned to strong and passionate in mere seconds. He didn't think, only felt: all of his senses seemed to heighten with each second that passed.

He even felt a painful pinch of lust strike his chest and spread throughout his body. Finally, she was truly his; finally, he had her back. He would treat her like the only antidote she was to his insanity, even though she was poisonous herself.

_I can't fight her... It's futile: I _don't _want to fight her... I want her for me, oh, and how desperately. What a foolish mistake, allowing her to slip from my grasp..._

An involuntary moan rose in the back of his throat, one that he wished that hadn't escaped him. Jill showed herself to be a bit fiercer than before, and Wesker didn't waste his chance to let himself go and keep kissing her. As he allowed his hands to stroke the exposed skin of her arms, he also allowed hers to feel the skin of his back, almost unable to stifle a shiver when her fingernails grazed one of his scars.

The kiss turned simple, gentle, but he felt himself asking for more, the attraction transforming into uncontrollable desire. Why though? What was there to feel attracted to in her? In one word: _everything_. He found her touch invigorating, poisonous, breathtaking, all at the same time coming like a tidal wave over him that drowned him in a sea of confusion and pleasure. He pressed harder; Jill did the same, and both shared a kiss none of them could escape from. His whole being was on fire, and just because of something as trivial as a woman's cold touch.

They broke away, Wesker feeling how slightly but painfully Jill's nails dug into his back, but then at the same time they renewed the kiss, and he enjoyed it with all his might, he wanted to keep feeling the sweetness of of her mouth against his mouth, of her skin against his skin; there was nothing he wanted to miss, not after the never-ending fight against his own desires. Even though pleasure was easily obtainable, Wesker knew there would be consequences to face... but now, he didn't care: now it was only him and Jill.

_'Get on with it, feel her! Taste her, touch her, breathe her in until her very essence has poisoned your blood! Let yourself go!'_

_I can't deny it any longer. I want her, I want her, never to let her go again._

And that was something he could allow himself.

_**An Eglantine rose for a wound to heal,  
**__**aconite for misanthropy, desire to kill.  
**__**A small, elegant balsamine for all their impatience,  
**__**a simple, delicate daisy for love's innocent innocence.**_

_****__****__****__**

* * *

**______A/N: You must be saying, "For God's sake, FINALLY!" XD Well, this all required a nice, slow pace, and there you have it now. I tried to make it as gentle and slight as possible, since this is only the beginning. If it was a bit confusing the notebook thing, let me explain: the first notebook (the one Jill read in his study) was the important one, when Wesker wrote everything he could remember. The second notebook was another one written by him but had more enigmatic clues about himself, clues he wanted her to figure out. And the third is another one Jill has for herself, found around the facility if you may. Things clear, let's move on! We're getting a glimpse of how Chris is doing in the next chapter, so stay tuned!_

_______Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	17. Chapter XVII: Acceptance of Nature

**Author's Note:** Updates and I said in the last one, we're getting a glimpse of how Chris is going and what's Marco up to now. Oh, just a little something: if anyone of you finds the format screwed up, and I'm not kidding, just tell me. I don't know why but FF just suddenly decided to erase all the asterisks and all the dashes that were in my documents, and that was what I used to separate fragments; as such, I resorted to 'x's... to be honest, I don't even think the word count works correctly xD In any case, do tell me if this is happening to you too; I wouldn't like to be the only one... it might be me, but whatever.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs**

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XVII

Acceptance of Nature

_'My brain, my brain,--I know, I know I am not mad but soon shall be.' Matthew Gregory Lewis_

**August 24th, 2009**

_Her voice sounded so distant, so faint, like a deafening cacophony. His vision was still spinning and blurry, his body felt like the heaviest rock in the world, and he felt as if his brain had been disconnected from his body. He had only regained awareness, he soon understood, but not mobility; he was still bound by numbness' shackles and there was no way he could break free of them. _

_Whose voice had he heard in some corner of his mind? It was so very familiar, a sweet and caring tone he hadn't heard in a very long time. Had it really been like that though? Had he really spent that long without hearing her, without hearing anything? When had been the last time since she had _seen_ her, for that matter? He felt tempted to remember, to smile when remembering her image. _

_Something was wrong though._

"_CHRIS!"_

_And Chris convulsed in agony._

_**I'll close my eyes and breathe in deep,**_

_**I'll open my eyes and I'll be free.**_

_**I'll stay awake, I won't fall asleep,**_

_**'Cause the Nameless Madness took over me.**_

XX

"NOO!"

And as he released a heart-rending exclamation, Chris Redfield came back to consciousness, adrenaline and fear still the only things that coursed through his system as he scanned the room where he was resting. It was all bizarre: he didn't understand what was happening, where he was, why he was there... All questions hit him like a hammer anxiously hitting an anvil to demand answers. Chris couldn't get them yet; maybe, if he found someone, they could answer them.

His mind, as he noticed, was working awesomely fast since it didn't take him more than thirty seconds to be completely functional, as if he had just woken up from a normal sleep. That sleep hadn't been normal at all though, as he soon understood. His vision adjusted in mere seconds, he felt all of his limbs still in place and ready to work; there was nothing wrong with him. He had a look at his hand, opened and closed it to check and confirm the veracity of his thoughts and assumptions.

_I'd like to think of this as some kind of refreshing sleep, but I have the feeling it hasn't. _

Out of curiosity and as something unexpected, Chris had a small glance at his arms and torso, coming to an also unexpected and strange conclusion.

_Hey, I'm lean! Just like before! I don't like this, not a bit. Wait, where am I? Looks like... like a lab or some kind of... Damn, I'd better get up and check this out; I hope my legs are up for it._

After having another look around, Chris swung his legs over the side of the examination table and laid his bare feet on the cold floor; even the coldness of the tiles seemed to do some good. Like a toddler, he carefully allowed his weight to rest on his legs, which didn't fail to support him. Optimism made its way through the doubts in his mind and made him crack a faint smile, giving some balanced steps forward. Also, he moved his arms in circles, still wanting to make sure he was fine; his opinion didn't change.

As he looked at his hands, Chris noticed there was something missing: the scars he'd had over his right wrist and the back of that hand. He remembered him to be of a very light shade, contrasting a lot with his skin, and also that he'd gotten them as a child during an excursion to the country, where he had tripped over a branch and rolled down a slope. Memories like those were still scarce, even though his mind could think and reason. But the important thing was that they were gone, like nothing had happened.

_Okay, this is getting weird. I need to find someone, if there is._

All of a sudden, an image struck his mind in a flash, making him stop in his tracks.

Now he knew, now he knew why it all seemed weird: for some reason, Chris had the feeling he had been in this place before, despite he didn't remember. Also, the reason why he was there: Ivanov, the mission in July, the betrayal; then pain, water, screams, coldness and death.

_Good God, what happened to me? And how long has it been since that day? Am I still in... in treatment? Damn, I've just awakened and my head's aching already... I hear someone coming!_

Indeed, he was hearing steps closing in. Not wanting to move from where he was, Chris stared at the door-less threshold and waited for that someone to show up. No, there wasn't only one someone, but _two _people coming.

_Hold it a sec, how have I been able to discern it so quickly? And... and separately? All's vice versa: I shouldn't be hearing so well after-_

And before he could finish the thought, Chris was facing the person who had always made his breath hitch and who had always made him smile. The memories, her name, it all came back in a painless flash and, as it always happened, Chris smiled in disbelief and shock as she also stared at him.

_It's-It's Jill!_

"Jill?" he uttered, the shock transforming into joy. How long had it been since he had last seen her? But she didn't seem too happy to see him; in fact, she started breathing like a fish out of the water and took one step back, as if he were someone dangerous. "Jill, what's-"

"Tell me this is really happening!"

His doubts didn't last for long. As soon as he'd started talking, Jill's features lightened up with a beaming smile and she took both hands to her mouth as she gasped. "Tell me you're conscious; come on!"

Although her reaction puzzled him a bit, Chris couldn't erase his smile. "I'm-I'm conscious; what's with that request?" He didn't receive an answer to his question but a strong and warm hug from her after she literally sprinted towards him and flung her arms around his neck with a mirthful laugh. Chris didn't hesitate to return the gesture, responding with a laugh of his own as he held her like he'd never had the chance to do so.

"God, you can't believe how _much_ I've missed you!" she exclaimed as she tightened her grip around him. "Damn, you had us so worried!"

"Worried? What's happened to me? How long have I been out?" Chris asked in return as he withdrew to look at her. A flash of concern struck her features.

"A month."

"Say what?!" he exclaimed as a response. "A-A month? I mean, what happened to me that kept me unconscious so long? Well, that is... if it was actually a-" As soon as the realization hit him, Chris interrupted himself as it all came back like a morbid, bitter and ironic joke. That mission in Philadelphia, the betrayal, the _pain_, the...

"The injection!" he sighed out loud. "I-I was injected with something, right? Jill, is that what..." Jill nodded gravely, her brow creasing in sorrow as he shared his thoughts with her. Now many things made sense, some still didn't, but the important part was solved. Eager, Chris took Jill by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. "I need you to tell me. _Please_, I need to know what-"

Without warning, a wave of weariness made his legs fail to support him and he collapsed onto one knee as all the memories came back in an organized yet painful succession, as well as all the sensations he had felt back then. He felt Jill crouching down beside him and, for a moment, his ears felt clogged and didn't hear anything but silence. All subsided as fast as it had come, but Chris was left as an athlete after a marathon. When all returned to normal, Chris heard his companion gasp and stare at him in shock.

"Oh, God..." she whispered, taking his face in her hand and tilting his head to one side. Chris couldn't keep in silence: the shock in Jill's face was too intense to ignore.

"Jill, what is it?" he asked her. "What's wrong?"

He could see her hesitating to answer, her bright gaze still staring into his own, but then she said, "Your... your eyes are-"

Chris' brusque movement interrupted her, and he desperately looked around for something that would show his reflection.

It was all fitting: there was no virus that could affect the eyes without affecting the host in its entirety other than...

_No, no, no, it can't be! Not like this!_

Finally, he found a mirror... and he realized, as he let out a terrified yell, that reality had never been so horrible. His mind screamed continuously.

Feline, golden eyes stared back at him, so intensely that they seemed to be boring a hole right through his skull. Terror seized Chris in each one of the many, repeated attempts to accept who he was seeing, _what_ he was seeing. His skin was of a dreadful greyish shade that blended with his normal colour, but that detail along with many others went unnoticed. Chris wanted to keep on screaming, to smash the mirror into pieces, to run away from reality with the hope that that would change something.

Nothing would.

"Look who's back from dead."

And then, fear, genuine fear that made him think his blood had literally frozen in his veins. Hesitant, as fearful as one who was about to face the Devil himself, Chris turned and then the cold hands of disbelief and horror clutched his heart as his eyes caught sight of the person in front of him. As he approached, Chris found the strength and the will to fully turn around and back away with a strangled gasp.

"You shouldn't have come," he heard Jill say. What the hell was happening?!

"Jill, what's... what's he doing here?!" he asked, looking at her for some kind of convincing answer. "Tell me this isn't- You're supposed to be DEAD!"

_He's supposed to be **dead**! I killed him, I saw him die! I did it myself, that couldn't have been an illusion!_

"Chris, I can explain," Jill said, taking his hands in an attempt to calm him down. But Chris wasn't listening and instead was staring at Wesker, the man whom Chris thought had killed. "Don't jump to any conclusions and let us tell you, okay?"

_Come on, it's the only way this is going to make sense. I'd better listen, but I can't snap out of it... This has got to be a dream! Dreams never felt so real though._

"Watch me listen to you!" he exclaimed as he stepped past Jill, determined to lunge at Wesker. The mere sight of him gave him the creeps and at the same time made a killer instinct take over him, making him imagine all of the things he could do to him right there and then. But before he could keep thinking about that, Jill tightened her grip around his wrist to keep him from moving.

Even so, that wasn't enough.

The surge of adrenaline was one of the greatest Chris had ever felt and as he gave one step forward, the world seemed to go hundreds to thousands of frames faster, as if everything had been sped up. It was all for a short moment, then he was moving at real-time again... tripping over because of a sprained ankle and falling as the tension subsided and the adrenaline spiked once more.

_This is what I call a fall!_

He didn't move more than a millimetre before the reaction was immediate: with only one jerk to one side of the tip of the foot that still touched the floor, Chris found his balance and swung his other leg to the right side, jumping on his right foot as soon as he felt the floor under his skin. In mere seconds, he was standing again, trying to keep his balance again and wondering what the hell had happened. By the look on Jill's face, Chris assumed that it had been nothing good.

"What the heck just- GAH!"

He hadn't finished the sentence when Wesker, who was near him with only one stride, grabbed him by his hair and lifted his head with a strong yank, soon to be tossed aside like a simple rag doll. Chris hit the floor as he remembered the pain of the many blows he'd received from Wesker, and this one didn't fail to leave him stunned and to make his mind ask for all to stop.

As he lifted his head to stare at Wesker, his eyes wide, the reason behind the sudden wave of fear that overcame him revealed itself to be unfathomable; Chris couldn't understand what had gotten into him. He had never felt this fearful, this scared. He felt like a child staring into the eyes of his worst nightmare... if he wasn't living in one already. In front of his eyes, Wesker drew his arm backwards and then it clicked: Chris knew he was going to kill him.

He imagined himself scrambling to his feet and running away from the never-ending nightmare, but nothing happened; he didn't move, he didn't think, he didn't even breathe. What he considered clear enough is that he was about to die.

"Wesker, STOP!"

Chris -and as it came apparent, Wesker- snapped out of his reverie and watched Jill lower and keep a good hold of Wesker's arms with a fast and effective armlock, and then it was all silence. For a moment, it all seemed impossible to Chris and although he was relatively safe from Death itself, the fear didn't leave him.

"Let me go," Wesker ordered her in a dark, vibrant tone. Jill didn't do anything in spite of his command. "I won't do anything else, lest he keeps showing off."

"Showing off? There's-" Chris started, but fell silent when Wesker spoke instead of him.

"-absolutely _no_ need for you to speak, Redfield," he hissed, impatient. Jill eased her grip on him and backed away, looking intently at Chris as she also kept silent. He then felt Wesker's eyes on him and repeated in his mind 'Stay still' like a sickening mantra: another mistake and he was as good as dead.

"Can we just take things easy?" Jill asked, exasperated. "No, I'm not trying to be the pacifist here but if we're going to keep this up, we might as well return to how everything was before: a good sedative could do the trick." Chris scowled at her, but she remained unfazed. "Yes, I'm talking to _you_ precisely because you were the one who started it. I'm not going to hesitate when it comes to this: right now, what's going to work is sticking together, alright?"

"And who said we're going to stick together?" Chris intervened, ignoring Wesker. If he didn't, he would stay as mute as a dead person. "I don't think he's going to stay put," he said, glaring at Wesker, who scoffed.

"You underestimate my self-control, and greatly," he said with a mild chuckle. "What made you think I'd try to kill you the first moment I saw you? And I think you get my drift." Chris clenched his teeth to keep himself from retorting with a fitting remark, knowing he didn't have a choice but to listen to Jill.

"Even though this is a serious matter," she said with a smile, "I can't help but to laugh: would it be possible to leave you two alone and return to find no casualties?" She sighed. "As unbelievable as it might sound, we have to set our differences aside... no matter the cost."

In spite of the calmness etched across his features, Chris could feel the hatred Wesker exuded; he could even say that hatred's scent was familiar, as if he'd smelled it all his life. Without holding back, knowing Jill would see, Chris bared his teeth in a grimace, one that Wesker returned as he tensed even more.

_Set our differences aside? I can't believe this..._

"Since I already have concerning a certain person," Wesker intervened, calm, "I'll leave you two to talk. If there's anything you need to discuss with me, you know where to find me," he added with a small glance at Jill. With that, he left without a sound. Chris sighed, taking a hand to his head and wondering if it was the real world the one he was in.

"Jill?" he called, ginger.

"Yes?" she replied, much to his surprise. Chris suddenly found himself at a loss for words and felt himself blushing as she looked at him. Jill laughed. "I'm not really mad, Chris, but it kinda got to me what you did before. You should've listened to me, but I guess you're still the hard-headed Redfield I know."

Chris smiled, something she always made him do. "I'm sorry, but you have to understand I can't take this very well." And indeed he couldn't: he could still feel his hands shaking. He sighed once again.

"It's your life the one which is in danger now, Chris, and I can't allow you to act recklessly. I know it'll hurt your pride, but it's time we depend on him; no-one else can help you now!" she said, her gaze ablaze with conviction.

"Haven't we always depended on him?" Chris uttered, rhetorical, with a sigh. Then, he said, "Can you explain? I won't do anything rash this time." He took Jill's hand and forced himself to forget about Wesker.

"Alright," she said with a nod, also gripping his hand. "I think you know one of the components of the picture, right?" Chris closed his eyes and frowned, remembering the sped-up world he'd lived in before.

"Yeah, somehow... and it's still hard to take it."

"You and Wesker are complete opposites now. Not that you weren't before, but everything's vice versa: he's human and you're _super_human. I guess that's also going to get to him; eventually, he'll grow sick of this," she explained, guiding him out of the lab room.

"So I'm one of those super-humans he always ranted about?" Chris asked even though aware of the answer. Jill nodded. "How could it happen? Why would I have the 'superior DNA' he was looking for?"

"I really don't know; it also caught us by surprise. I still remember Wesker's demeanour when he found out that Uroboros didn't reject you. At first you appeared dead, since it was the virus' initial adaptation phase, but then you seemed normal. I... I even thought and convinced myself of that, that you were gone and never coming back. Then Wesker showed up and decided, for reasons unknown, to help me and, indirectly, you."

"Why is he still alive?" Chris didn't hold back his rage, letting it tinge his words.

"A question first: is Sherry Birkin familiar to you?" Jill asked in return.

"Y-Yeah... she was the girl Claire rescued from Raccoon City, and William Birkin's daughter," he replied as the memories came back.

"Well, she was the one who brought Wesker back. They found him outside the volcano and took him to the States. They carried out the '1960/013' project to grant him life again; it was started in March and it finished two days before we went to Philadelphia," Jill said, her tone a bit crestfallen. "It was all complex and a very lengthy process, but they managed to leave him as he is right now."

_I can't believe it, Wesker being alive and human... It's like a fantasy, something impossible, but I noticed it: his eyes, I saw his eyes for a moment... He seemed even more different than he already is._

"Returning to the earlier topic, you were also a real handful. There came a time when the virus started to act in a berserk way and grew unstable; that's why you look so lean now. Sherry told us about it and believe me, you wouldn't like to know it." When she made a pause, Chris noticed she was hesitant. "Chris, do you remember being conscious at any time?"

"Now that you mention it..." he reasoned, "I do. It's been like three times, I guess, but all the images are bizarre. The first and the third time... I think I saw Wesker, although it all felt like a dream. The second time, the only thing I felt was pain; I don't remember anything else." Chris made another attempt to sort out his thoughts, but to no avail. "Why the question?"

"The first time you came to consciousness, we were getting you out of HQ in New York. I took you there after Philly and there you stayed for the next week. The second time was when the virus was unstable, and the third time was the worst," Jill said. "The third time, you were given a shot of P30 by another backstabber, James, who was Sherry's assistant and had 'accompanied' us here; he sneaked into the plane. Whilst I went to get him, Wesker stayed behind and fought you until the effects wore off."

"I see... Well, everything's a bit clearer now. And speaking of which, where exactly is 'here'?" he then inquired.

"We're back at Africa, and with a reason," she said. "The instability of the virus forced us to return here; you needed PG shots to keep the virus under control."

"The PG67?" Jill nodded and Chris sighed. "I guess everything Wesker used, I'll have to use it this time."

_And how did she manage to be with him?_

"How did you manage to be with him?" Chris said, voicing out his thoughts. "Didn't you have any flashbacks or... you know, difficulties to stay sane? I know it's complicated to keep your sanity when he's around."

Jill chuckled, her tone still sad. "I had my difficulties, yeah; like you, I have a killer instinct within me that led me to punch a mirror instead of his gut. Look." Jill lifted her left hand and wriggled her fingers so that the scars were visible. Chris frowned, sudden anguish tugging at his heart. "Hallucinations were persistent and... and then I understood the reason behind them."

"Which was that reason?" he inquired as he followed Jill down the hall and into a locker room. His gaze still upon her, Chris watched her approach a locker and open it, fetching nothing from it but remaining silent and sorrowful. "If it's something... you don't want to tell me, I'll understand."

"It's not that," she denied with a shake of her head. "The illusion that made me understand hit me when the paramedic told me and Graves you were dead. I started walking away from them when I couldn't keep going and, as I stopped, I felt Wesker clutching my wrist. I wanted to forget about him, banish his memory from my head but then..." Jill's voice faltered for a second and Chris approached her and left a hand on her shoulder.

"If it's complicated, you can keep it as a secret. I won't insist."

"But it's something you have to know about, Chris," she protested, raising her gaze at him. "I wanted to forget and I wondered why he didn't leave me alone. After asking this, he told me that it was me who didn't let go of him, and in more ways than one: when I turned around, I saw it was me clutching his wrist, not him doing that with mine. It was as if I didn't want to let go.

"After much thinking, I... I decided to come to terms with everything he was, and it actually worked. Whilst he still insisted in prying out thoughts I would've never liked to share, I felt a bit better but I also thought that sooner or later, I'd collapse."

"Why did you think that? You're a strong woman, Jill," Chris said with concern.

"You know Wesker's field of expertise is the human mind and everything that has to do with it," Jill continued. "Well, that's what he liked to do: play with my mind. I refused to let him see that he was getting to me, because I went through a really rough patch, and had you in mind as an example: a façade. Don't take me wrong, but I had to hide how I felt inside; if not, he would've manipulated me like he did before. It was terrifying, I hated not being able to be myself."

"There's something I don't understand about this: how could you do that? Didn't you have in mind what he did to us? To our friends?" Chris asked, still in disbelief.

"Don't think I forgot about that," Jill shot back, "but it's clinging to the past that you can't keep it from haunting you. I know he killed everyone, he betrayed us, but if you don't let go of it and keep going, it'll be impossible to have another kind of vision."

"Why do I have the feeling you have the same mindset as him now?" he inquired, suspicious. Jill, instead of showing herself to have been nagged by the question, shrugged in response.

"When you've been around him for as long as I have, you can't help but to see things another way. I still haven't lost my own mindset though, so the similarities are trivial," she replied, a bit blunt.

"I'm sorry, it's kinda strange. And I'm sorry you had to go through all this just because of me," he said, lowering his head. Jill clicked her tongue, nudging his chest in a playful way.

"C'mon, it's time someone else did something for you, don't you think? Besides, it was worth it: you're alive, you're safe and you're doing fine. I don't know what else to ask for." Chris smiled at her, knowing it was the only thing he could do right now.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Jill shook her head. "Think me crazy, but it hasn't been as bad as I thought it'd be."

"As much as I want to know about that, you'll have to keep that for another moment," Chris said with a half-smile. "You mentioned Graves and Claire. What about them?"

"Graves is... he's dead," Jill replied, averting his gaze with a sad expression. "When we went to rescue you, since they wanted to take you away, he was shot. In his last moments, he helped us escape and he died."

_Damn... Rest in piece, old friend._

A question suddenly appeared in his mind. "Wait, who's 'they'?" Chris asked, frowning.

"Grant and Greene. They're two black-market dealers who are working for Marco Gionne," Jill replied. "He got wind of your state through some source and decided to retrieve you. They failed to do so, and he hasn't tried anything since that. Though Greene is still alive, Grant was killed."

"So Tricell's after me now, huh?" Chris reasoned, crestfallen. "Great..."

Chris' mind was suddenly off.

_What else could happen?! No, no, I can't take this! I want it to end, I want it to end! Why does everything happen to me? Why the worst?! Why is is always the fucking worst?!_

He felt a huge knot in his gut; why were those thoughts crossing his mind? What was going on?!

"As for Claire," she posed, a small smile lightening up her features, "she's going to be shocked when she hears from you, as will the rest of the people. They... they also assumed you were dead. I told Claire personally."

"Damn, I hope they didn't arrange a funeral," Chris said with a playful smirk. "She must be so depressed... We Redfields are known for our mood swings, you know that. When I see her again, it's going to be like 'It's a ghost!', don't you think?" he said almost laughing, and Jill soon joined him with a good-natured laughter of her own.

"Like it happened with me," she agreed with a nod. "I hope we get to see everyone soon." Chris sighed, smiling.

"Yeah, I'd like to see them, too. You had courage when facing Claire; you know how she gets sometimes. Boy, I'm dying to talk to her again," he remarked so as to ease a bit more of tension. Jill took his hand again, somehow gingerly, and Chris remained silent.

"I needed..." She sighed and swallowed before speaking. "I needed you to be with me so much... I felt unable to go on, even though you say I'm strong. You being alive were the first good news in a very long while that actually made me hope again, though I didn't even know how to feel back then: shocked or happy. On one hand, you were alive; on the other, I didn't know when I'd get to see you conscious again. It was like an unbalanced scales, never to reach equilibrium."

"I'm here... but maybe not in the way you wanted me to be; sorry if I didn't meet those expectations," he said jokingly, although he meant it in a way. He had never been one to take things as they came, but he had no choice but to do so right now. He would understand if Jill rejected him because of his actual state, but that would also break his heart. To his surprise, no hearts were broken.

"The only expectation I wanted you to meet was that you woke up sooner than later," Jill replied, "and you've met it. Don't be so silly." Their gazes met for a moment that seemed like aeons to Chris. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, yet it wasn't the correct moment to do so. They all had a lot to take care of and whilst he considered it was time to tell her the truth about his feelings, he decided everything could be taken to a better scenario.

As such, he decided to wait.

"Alright, put this on and get decent," Jill teased as she handed him a black shirt. "I managed to fish it from some drawers from somewhere I don't remember, but at least it's in a decent state."

"Okay, my friend, I'll get decent," he said with a smirk as he took it. "Answer me just another question: can _you_ really, and _really_, trust Wesker now? I wouldn't like to see you had made a mistake."

"I trust him now, in a way, but you still need to be wary," she replied, resolute. Chris weighed his options for a few seconds. Jill was right: he had to set his differences aside and agree to cooperate with Wesker, but how to cooperate with your nemesis? The man you hate with all your soul? Chris didn't know, but there had to be a way. If Jill had done so, he could do that too, no matter how much it took him.

"Then I guess I can do like you have, but I'd like you to be there to snap me out of my stupidity," he said as he finished straightening the collar of the shirt. "I can't guarantee I will ignore the taunts he surely will throw my way. One thing we can't let go of is our grudge, and we're going to keep it alive one way or another."

Jill didn't say anything else and laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's hard, believe me, but we have to do this. Right now... he's the only one with the answers; nobody else has them."

Chris nodded. "And we have to get them."

In that moment, Jill winked an eye at him and said, "Fancy telling about your return to our world?" she asked, good-natured. "I... I told Sheva you were-"

"Heh, no need to continue," Chris said with a smile. "It'll be nice to know how she's faring... here's to hoping she doesn't freak out a lot."

"You should know better than me!" his partner replied as they walked out of the locker room. "You knew her for quite some time, so you should know if she can keep a cool head or not."

"Well, she's still young, but she's got the experience," Chris replied, then pulling a small grimace. "Damn, this is gonna feel like a bucket of water."

Jill slapped his arm. "Stop being such a scaredy cat, you dupe," she joked, and then burst into laughs. Chris joined her with a chuckle of his own, but Jill was right in a way.

He _was_ afraid, and there was no denying that.

xx

**Vancouver, Canada**

"Mr. Gionne! We know where they are!" exclaimed David with a grin of triumph. Marco lifted his gaze from the report he was typing down on his laptop and looked into David's emerald green eyes, his own grey gaze narrowing as curiosity took hold of him.

"You do? I knew you'd find out, Mr. Janssen," he complimented as he stood from his seat. "Where are they?"

"They're in Africa, in the Research Centre Tricell has there," David replied. "I just saw these faxes from James. Redfield is there with Wesker and Valentine, and it seems Redfield's almost awake. It wouldn't surprise me if he is already."

"And I myself know where Redfield's sister is."

It was then when Marco allowed himself the biggest grin he'd ever smiled, showing his teeth like a shark.

"We need to catch them off guard," he reasoned, contemplative, "and I have just the perfect way to do so. With authorisation of the executive board, we can shut down the facility and the alarm will go off. The lockdown will commence and the auxiliary exit will be opened; no doubt they'll take that one to get out."

"But wasn't the auxiliary exit at the end of the containment cell of-" David suddenly fell silent, realizing what Marco planned to do. "You're speaking about the sea. You plan on-"

"If it all goes well, they'll drown with no exit whatsoever. At the same time, I'll send a trusty friend there to keep them cornered like rats."

"But what about Redfield?"

Marco's eyes gleamed with wicked mirth. "I have no interest in him anymore; I have a better host and one I can easily get my hands on. If Redfield has the superior DNA that Uroboros will accept, then his lovely sister will do just fine. Whilst this friend of mine takes care of them in the Research Centre, you and Vithar will go and bring Claire to me. I'll take care of her myself later," Marco replied.

"Sorry, sir, but who's Vithar?"

As if ignoring David's question, Marco then called, "Vithar! Freya!"

That same instant, the door opened and two young people, a boy and a girl, stepped inside the office. As David frowned, Marco stood up and greeted them with a warm smile. David caught sight of Marco smiling, but the newcomers did nothing more than keep their impassive and cold expressions of obliviousness to everything. The only one who seemed to notice Marco's gestures a bit more was the boy, whom David assumed to be Vithar, out of what he knew from Norse mythology.

"Vithar, Freya, I have a favour I want to ask," said Marco, putting a hand on their shoulders. The girl lifted her onyx eyes to Marco, blinking lazily.

"Will I be with Vithar?" she asked, her voice soft and innocent for one so old. Marco shook his head.

"Not this time, I'm afraid, but I'm sure it won't take you long," he replied, tilting his head and looking at Vithar. "I'm sure you remember the time when I told you about Chris Redfield?"

It then seemed that Freya's interest was piqued. "We do, don't we, Vithar?"

"We sure do," replied Vithar, and David notice his speech was slightly slurred, as if he had trouble speaking. He seemed like fifteen, so why the difficulties? "He was the one who... who got infected, wasn't he?"

Marco nodded. "Yes, but it's not him we're after."

A chill ran down David's spine and he felt a bead of cold sweat going down his temple. Those two were unnerving, especially Freya. She seemed from another world: her pale skin, the fair shade of her hair, her light coloured eyes... David knew they had to be Slavic because of their accent, but it was strange to see Vithar was so different from Freya; if they were related, they seemed from families apart. Vithar's hair was black, lackluster, and it was cut irregularly: he had longer locks on the right side of his face that reached under his chin, shorter locks that almost covered his left eye. His gaze was of a deep blue color, almost of a sapphire hue.

He saw Vithar's eyes light up with something akin to joy. "Then who is it we're... we're after, Mr.-Mr. Gionne?"

Marco ran a hand through Vithar's hair and widened his smile. "It's his sister."

Freya gasped, excited. "He's got a sister?!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands, and Vithar smiled tiredly. "Then that's better! It's time we had some fun tearing families apart, isn't it?"

David was sure he felt bile rising on the back of his throat. _Who... _What_ are they?!_

"It's time, yes, but you won't kill her yet. I want you to bring her to me, then you'll have your fun," Marco said, his voice sharp. Both Vithar and Freya nodded, grins spreading across their features. "Wait for me outside, if you will."

Once they were outside, Marco turned to David, a smirk upon his pale features.

"I'll say a single word: homelessness. You'll get to learn about them soon, Mr. Janssen. Trust them, they're skilled assassins," he explained as he neared David.

David was floored. "A-Assassins? Children like them, assassins?" He couldn't hold himself back and exclaimed, "What did you train them to be? Monsters?!"

It was a costly mistake: Marco didn't hesitate a single second to lash out at David, landing a strong punch on his nose, and then pinned him against the wall, his hand at his throat. David struggled to free himself from Marco's grasp, but the appearance of the man's hand was deceiving: although it had a mangy look to it, almost skin and bone, its strength was admirable. David attempted to breathe, but no oxygen reached his lungs. Instead, Marco pressed tighter, but at last he released him. Coughing and gasping for air, David remained leaning on his knees, calming his racing heart. When he looked up at Marco, his light-grey gaze was very different than the one he'd become used to see: it was one of despair.

"So what if I did, Mr. Janssen?" Marco asked, seething. "Have this in mind: we're all monsters, whether we show it or not."

_**I know, I know, it's all in my mind,  
I should've known better than to think madness as kind.**_

_**

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**A/N: Get a load of that! Chris is awake, Jill is trying to talk to him and now it turns out Marco is after Claire. What for? Will our heros take action? Find out in the next one! xDDD_

_Reviews are appreciated!^^  
_


	18. Chapter XVIII: Against One's Beliefs

**Author's Note: **I can't believe how excited you're all showing yourselves to be; I can't! Well, I guess this is going the right way. Now that Chris is up and going again, you might be thinking: "How is he going to take everything?" And I tell you: don't worry, it'll all come slowly. I don't want to rush things a lot and there's plenty of room for the sequel, which is where we will see the most. Now, enjoy this update!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters.**

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XVIII

Against One's Beliefs

_'__He who chooses the beginning of a road chooses the place it leads to. It is the means that determine the end.' __Harry Emerson Fosdick_

**August 25****th****, 2009**

"We'll do it here, since it's the only place deep enough to make a worthy descent and then make our way up."

Chris and Jill looked around and took in the familiar vast place they were in: the main elevator shaft and the Uroboros test subject storage room of the also named 'Doomsday Project'. Chris stole a sideways glance at Jill, his concern for her going off as an alarm. He had asked her about the flashbacks and it wouldn't surprise him if another one struck her mind. In spite of his assumption, Jill didn't seem to be troubled... even though it was also himself whom Chris had to worry about, and not just because of the flashbacks.

As stupid and impossible as it seemed to both him and Wesker, they had eventually -after long conversations and many taunts to provoke each other (there was no avoiding that)- reached an agreement, an agreement Chris wasn't sure how long would last. The agreement had been simple, although it was complex and scary in a way: for starters, Wesker would help -assist, as he'd put it- Chris in getting used to his new abilities. The scary part of the agreement was that the upshot of the whole situation would be decided by Wesker and only him... Just God, out of all people in the Heavens, Earth and Hell, knew what he'd do to Chris.

_Kill me, that's for sure. And enjoy a bit of psychological torture whilst he's at it._

The worst part of all was that Jill would have to stand all of their arguments; Chris was sure there was _no way in hell_ he and Wesker would stick with diplomacy. In fact, she'd already witnessed one of Wesker's attempts to kill him and would surely witness another of Chris doing the same: that would come back to bite Wesker, whether he liked it or not.

_Oh boy, I'm sure he'll love it: yet another chance._

Chris couldn't help being sardonic about it, since it was his own method of going through situations that either threatened his life or seemed too unbelievable and stupid... because that was what everything was: stupid. When in his life had the thought of forming an alliance -if it could be called that- with his enemy, his nemesis, crossed his head? Never, that was for sure. That should and would teach him to listen to Jill before listening to his own intuition, a little voice that had never failed to tell him what was correct and what wasn't.

"A descent and an ascent?" Chris echoed before any of them had to snap him out of his thoughts.

"I thought I made myself clear enough, Redfield, but yes... and we'll go down to the deepest part," Wesker replied as he neared the edge of the elevator, his tone acquiring a wicked note that Chris didn't like. "Oh don't worry, I'm sure you'll make it."

_Okay, you want sarcasm? I'll give you sarcasm and much more; you're asking for it!_

"Yeah, I guess I will, but what about you?" Chris shot back, going as far as to sound contemptuous. This earned him a reproaching look from Jill, but that didn't do much to silence the voice that kept enticing him to engage in a verbal fight with Wesker: Chris knew better than to run away from challenges. "Think you can keep up?"

This remark also earned him a glare from his enemy and then a smirk. "The mighty Redfield showing concern towards me?" he asked, his voice still caustic. "I don't think age has much to do with this, although if you actually think that being a thirty-six year old bugger like you will give you some advantage against me, let me tell you that you're sorely mistaken."

And with that, Wesker jumped backwards and soon got lost into the shadows. Both Chris and Jill strode towards the edge and looked down, only to find Wesker sitting in a casual manner atop one of the many containers a few rows below. He didn't know why, but Chris found himself staring in disbelief.

_If he can do that and be human... wonder what I'll be able to do! God, just look at what he did! And why am I showing this surprise? I can't understand myself sometimes..._

"I hope this isn't too much for you, Chris; if it is, just you wait till the ascent."

"Don't get so cocky already!"

Chris followed suit and for the first time in his life thought he was flying. Never in his life he'd imagined he'd jump so far and so high, and the sensation was terrific. Still, there was no time to allow his mind to wander and delight in the feeling of power the adrenaline made him experience: Wesker was descending once again and _fast_.

_How can he be so fast if he isn't superhuman anymore? Damn, I should have more advantage than him!_

Frustrated and miffed, Chris pushed himself off the container on which he had landed and took one of the faster routes he'd seen, although maybe it'd hurt a bit: the main girder of the elevator. There were other short beams set in circles around it that would help him get down faster than he would've imagined, but if he failed to catch hold of one of them, he'd earn a really bad smash against whatever was in his way. Of course, he had to think positive and, at first, he held onto the beam successfully... and now he had to keep going. When he looked down at the darkness below him, a chill ran down his spine: going down in the elevator was much different than doing it on foot... and _on foot_, which was the surprising concept.

As soon as he eased his grip on the beam, something hard crashed against his back and made him stray from his path. When Chris turned his head around to find out what had hit him, he wasn't surprised to see it had been Wesker, who was soaring a couple of rows above him with an impressively natural air. Before he could slip, Chris held on to one of the containers and forced himself up on it, looking up and finding Wesker smirking down at him, the lights that beamed down on him giving him a creepy air of haughtiness.

"You're getting a kick out of this, aren't you? You almost knocked me down!" Chris snapped, annoyed.

"What made you think I'd make this easy for you? This is the easiest it can get, I warn you," replied Wesker as he made his way to Chris' same level. To his surprise, Chris found himself wishing he could move like that.

_Hah! Soon, I will; I just need some practice._

"I think it's better if we handle heights at some other moment; it looks like it's too soon," Chris' companion said. "Your body has to get used to all of these brusque and exerting movements, and forcing your legs to keep up with your weight so early will do nothing more than leave the fibres thrashed. And speaking of weight, too bad you were lucky the sample you were injected with had the proper quantity according to your weight; a bit more and I wouldn't have to be dealing with you."

"Well, life gives many turns," Chris shot back, shrugging in a nonchalant manner.

"Oh, by the way," said Wesker, "don't get any funny ideas: this is only advice; take it or leave it."

"I guess I'll have to take it if I want to make it out of this hole," Chris said, resigned. He looked down to see how much they had left; out of what he could see, he guessed that not much. In the mood to prompt Wesker, he smirked and gestured with his head at the shaft. "I've learnt a small lesson; see if you can get down there before I do."

"Watch me do so," Wesker said in return, accepting the challenge.

Chris didn't hesitate to jump again and slip his way through the containers as a cat would climb down the space between two narrow walls. As he descended, he twisted his body in ways he would've never imagined and endured falls that would've broken a normal person's legs or even killed them. One thing he didn't realize until he took a deep breath was how well he was coping with everything: it was as if exertion was a word that had been erased from his dictionary.

_Alright, I can do this! This-this is amazing! _

Chris dared to close his eyes whilst he kept moving. Anyone else would've hesitated or not even have opened, fearful of smashing against something, but he didn't fear running into a container or slipping. His keener sense of hearing allowed him to detect and trace all the vibrations that the blows to the containers caused and gave him like a panoramic sight of what he had around him. He was blind, but at the same time he wasn't.

He heard something like a wind current near him; no, it _was _an air current, and he opened his eyes. In disbelief, he watched Wesker swing his body upwards and avoided his boots in time: yet another attempt to either maim him or kill him. With a faint 'Whoa' that was nevertheless heard because of the echo, Chris forced himself to go faster and focus even more on what he was doing: one wrong movement and Wesker would be on top of him, like a predator chasing his prey.

_This is like cat and mouse! And I _refuse_ to be the mouse!_

Chris laid one hand against the wall and the other one against a container, lifted himself up with almost no effort and made a full counterclockwise spin as Wesker slipped past him. When his adversary was a few metres away from him, Chris decided to test how he'd respond to his first fall. Without heeding Wesker's earlier 'advice' as he'd put it, Chris pushed himself off the container and got ready to make a successful landing. What he didn't account for was that he wouldn't be landing onto solid floor but water instead, and broke its surface with a loud splash. Once he swam back up, he heard Wesker's soft chuckles behind him.

"That was quick, although I got here sooner than you did," he remarked like he found amusement in stating the obvious. "Don't get out of there. Even though I can see you're freezing -and I hope it gets to you soon enough-, the cold should revitalize you."

Chris accepted his advice, but with great distrust. Either this was a way to see him suffer or he was actually right, because never in his life had he been conscious and so freaking cold. The question that popped into his mind was voiced out before he could keep himself from doing so.

"Why is this all filled with water? Last time I checked it wasn't like this," he said, finding no difficulties to speak clearly even though his teeth were starting to chatter. Wesker shrugged, his gaze trained behind Chris. When he turned around, shock took over him as he stared into a large opening with an equally large iron gate at the end. After having a better look, Chris noticed water seeping in through the hinges.

"It appears this won't last long," Wesker remarked as he stood up. "Let's get back up; I wouldn't like to be caught in the middle of the flood when this collapses." As he got out of the water, Chris couldn't avoid bouncing in shock.

"It won't hold?"

"The pressure's too great. We have a few rows to get to the real end of this shaft and there's a good distance between here and there. We've been lucky to have found this still in a decent state."

"Any idea when this might be flooded?"

"Approximately a few hours, but that's a far-fetched guess," Wesker replied, contemplative. "Either way, let's stop with the banter and get back. I didn't come here to waste my time with you."

"And who said you had to waste it?" Chris shot back, his annoyance spiking again. "You could've ignored-"

Wesker didn't give him a chance to continue and started climbing up the containers at a fast pace. Chris was left there, dumbfounded and ready to kick the shit out of him whenever he had a chance.

"-me?"

_Oh no, you're not gonna win this time._

With that purpose in mind, Chris took a run-up and jumped -_Feels like flying!_- to the seventh row upon the water-filled level, three rows above Wesker. From then on, he didn't waste any time and kept climbing as fast as he could without messing up, even though having in mind his clothes were drenched and would be an additional weight to carry. The race didn't last long, since both of them went at their fastest, but still Chris got to the main platform mere seconds before Wesker. He found Jill propped against the girder and she welcomed him with a smile.

"So, how did it go? And why are you soaked?"

"Not bad, really. It was... kinda fun, if you ask me," Chris said as he leaned over to catch his breath.

"It was also amusing to push him and see how he struggled not to smash himself against the ground," Wesker intervened as he landed.

"You tried to kill him again?" Jill asked, her voice a bit stronger than before. Wesker simply shrugged, flashing her a smirk.

"Oh, just friendly attempts during a harmless game, wouldn't you say?" he replied, and Chris saw Jill was trying to keep herself from laughing.

_I hope she's laughing at his sarcasm._

"And the reason why he's soaked is he tried to get to the bottom before me and crash-landed against a water-filled section of this shaft. Cockiness knows no boundaries, it seems."

"Cockiness my foot! I was just trying something new," Chris protested in defense. Wesker tilted his head, a sign which Chris took as Wesker had just rolled his eyes. "Whatever. The thing is a good section of the shaft is completely covered by water. The gate down below won't hold for long, according to his precise calculations," Chris then explained, putting an especial sarcastic emphasis on 'precise'.

"How long do we have?" asked Jill. "It could give in at any moment."

"What we can do is hope there's no electricity cut," Wesker replied. "This facility has a nasty security system: if the lockdown commences, there'll be no way to get out of here."

"Why risk getting locked down here?" Chris asked, straightening himself.

"Security measures, that's all," his enemy replied in a simple way. "We should get ready to return to the States; there's nothing else we have to do here, since we already have enough samples of PG to keep you alive. Let's hope we run out of them soon."

"Very funny. I love your sense of humour," Chris said as he started to walk towards the entrance.

"And I love the way you two get along," Jill intervened with a laugh. Chris half-turned to look at her, giving out a curious smirk.

"Why do you keep joking about this?" he inquired as he slowed down. Jill sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I'm not joking. You keep going with the sarcasm, so I thought I could also have a part in this. I have a quite good repertoire of sarcastic remarks; you might even learn from me and keep kicking each other's butt in verbal fights like these," she explained with dark humour. Wesker stole a glance at her, cocking an eyebrow.

"This doesn't surprise me: you're still intent on taking me down, be it physically or verbally. I'll have to force an alliance with a trusty friend of mine."

"And who's this friend of yours?" Chris inquired with malice.

"Myself. He can have quite the dark side," Wesker replied with a sardonic smirk. When Wesker finished speaking, Chris' mood changed dramatically and turned his head around to prevent the change from being noticed.

_I can't believe what I'm doing... It's unnatural, and I don't know if I'll be able to keep this up for long. There will come a time when this will have to stop. Even though having him as a temporary ally is an upside, I can't tell for how long I'll keep my restraints. He might be helping me get used to this new state of mine, but I know he's desiring to kill me. When he has his chance... not even I will be able to stop him. I must have in mind he's still my enemy, no matter what he does or says... and I can tell he feels the same._

"_Think me crazy, but it hasn't been as bad as I thought it'd be."_

Chris remembered Jill's words about her own experience all of a sudden and found some consolation in them. Jill was completely different from him: she was very confident of herself and knew how to get along well with people from the first moment she met them. Despite that indeed didn't seem to apply with Wesker, she _had_ told him there was something different; not directly, but her words had led him to assume that. Chris soon found himself feeling confused, begging for the answers to come... and quick. How to take Jill's reaction? A sixth sense of his told him there was no enmity between Wesker and Jill now; at least, not _visible_ enmity. Had she... had she-?

_Forgiven him?! That's impossible!! _

"Chris?"

"Huh?" Chris blinked a few times and shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts. What had that been all about? "Sorry I spaced out for a moment. I guess I just need to rest."

"It's fine," Jill said. "Are you feeling okay?" Chris nodded, not even sure of his own gestures.

_God, I'm... I'm getting the shakes, I'm feeling horribly cold and I can't see without anything swimming before my eyes... This-This is not because of the water before, this is different. Hold on, Chris, hold-_

Before he could finish the thought, he collapsed as the world turned black.

xx

"Are you sure I can leave you with him?"

Jill smiled, raising her gaze at a cautious and tense Wesker in front of her. "I'm sure; it'll be fine. Besides, it's not like he's going to bite me."

"That much isn't clear; I don't want anything to go awry," he replied. "He could lash out at you at any moment."

Jill smirked. "Concerned?" She sighed. "I have to talk to him, and he looks about to wake up. By the way, why was he shaking so much?"

He replied with no hesitation. "He doesn't take the PG samples as frequently as he should. I can't get it inside his head: maybe he will listen to you, or else you can tell him he will inevitably either die or become fodder for the virus; whatever option he chooses will lead him to his death. I can tell you that we won't listen to each other much: this grudge of ours will get in our way, and we're not going to stop it."

"Not even you?"

"Not even me," he said, "and you know it."

"I'm wondering how he will take all of this. Sooner or later, he'll have his suspicions," Jill reasoned, half-listening to her words.

"About us, correct?" Jill looked back at Wesker and saw him with a smirk across his features, one she didn't know how to take. "He doesn't have to know. Despite you're right about his curiosity -curse it, for that matter-, there can only be one way out of this. And it's up to you to decide how, not me. There could've been no turning back for me, but that also applies to _you_."

Wesker then dipped his head at her. "I'll be upstairs."

Jill didn't see him leave but did hear him close the door and leave for the upper floor, and then she turned her attention to Chris. With uneasiness, she closed her eyes and sighed. As she had assumed, Chris recovered consciousness soon after she took a seat at the foot of the bed and, silent, she watched him sit up and shake his head hastily. Jill couldn't look anywhere else that wasn't his eyes, those very familiar feline eyes she'd many times looked into, only this time they weren't Wesker's.

_Everything is upside-down..._

"Jill, what are you doing there?" Chris asked as she smiled when he noticed her. "You could've picked another place, y'know."

"It's fine, really; I didn't want to wake you up," she replied, shaking off his remarks and concern and choosing this time to sit beside him. "How're you feeling?" Chris frowned, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his forehead upon them.

"Not very well... It's not because of the dizziness I felt before, but because of something else," he replied. "It's been nagging me for a while, and I have to ask: when I regained consciousness all those times, I didn't hurt you, did I?" He paused. "I've kept having these flashbacks of me hurting you and... I just wanted to know if I did something to you, that's all."

_And he still has a hard-time sharing his thoughts with me. This Redfield will never change._

Jill snaked an arm around his shoulders and patted his head with her other hand. "You didn't, you can stop worrying about it. You never finish your sentences, you knew that?" she then said with a teasing tone, but that wasn't enough to lift Chris' spirits as much as she wanted to. There was silence, then,

"Jill?" he called, and her good humour faded at once.

For the first time in her life, she'd heard Chris' voice quivering.

"I'm not... I'm not looking for pity of any kind, but... why does the same happen to me? Why does it all happen to _us_, for that matter?" he said, his voice almost a whisper. "It's not that... that I can't take it anymore, but-"

For the first time in her life, she heard his voice break but he didn't stay quiet.

"Now I understand why you felt so guilty for everything that happened," Chris spoke with a bitter chuckle. "It's ironic to see that you've become all you've fought against your whole life... Jill, it's driving me crazy; I don't even know if I'm myself anymore..."

Jill was left speechless, grief-stricken and letting the silence speak for itself; she knew that her words would do nothing to ease his pain. But instinctively, she said, "Chris, I-"

In that moment, Chris reached for her hand and held it with strength, and Jill couldn't avoid a smile: she knew that this moment would come sooner of later; it was just a question of time. Gently, she gave a small squeeze to his shoulder and decided to talk.

"You can't help wondering about that irony, yeah. But you know we've gone through worse and we've made it out," she said. "Chris, it's time you get the weight off your shoulders and just... just live, dammit. We can't go on if you keep blaming yourself for everything that happens, because I _know_ you do it... and _I_ can't go on either. There's always so much one person can take, and you can't keep evading your limits."

"I know things happen, but I can't help it!" Chris said in return, his eyes bleary. "Jill, you know I'm always responsible of everything we do -well, not always, but most of the times. Whatever happens, _I'm_ the one held responsible, whether I like it or not. You can't expect me to shrug it off like nothing!"

"I'm not asking you to do that nor I expect it!" Jill exclaimed. "What I don't want you to do is keep it all to yourself! What have we been all here for? You were always the same, Chris, even before the Mansion incident had happened! Remember the time when _not even_ Barry could get you to talk about what was wrong, and then it all was because you feared we had screwed up on a recon mission because of a silly mistake of yours? I mean, you could've shared that with all of us and nothing would have happened! In fact, we would've laughed even sooner than we did! Remember, not even Barry, who was the warmest soul of us all!"

Chris remained silent, blinking as he seemed to remember what happened that day. "I still have-" His voice broke because of a half-hearted laugh. "I still have Joseph's good-natured laughs in mind."

"Of course, you idiot!" Jill agreed, sitting down again beside him. "Chris, I don't think that I'm asking too much of you, only that you're a bit more open. I'm not even forcing you to change, even though I sometimes wanted to strangle you so that you snapped out of it. We can shoulder everything along with you; no need to take it all yourself."

Chris remained silent once again, not even bothering to say anything, because there was no need to say it. He moved his head to Jill's direction very slightly and then his eyes looked up at her from under the shadows cast over his lids. It caught Jill unawares, the powerful gleam in his gaze, but she didn't break eye contact, fighting against doing so because of the intensity of his hues. At last, he smiled sadly.

"Thanks for smacking some sense into me."

"No need to say thanks for this," Jill spoke as she shook her head. "You should've placed a bit more of trust in me. Keep on living happy, there'll be time for the rest." Jill knew Chris would react because of that last sentence and indeed, he did. He sat up with a half-hearted chuckle and rested his back against the wall. He sighed.

"That's what Joseph said every time a problem was solved," he said, his tone nostalgic. "And then Forrest would keep mentioning it until I snapped at him. Of course, then we made bets and it'd always come down to shooting competitions... and I kicked his ass every time he dared challenge me."

Jill let out a laugh at Chris' proud tone. "Goodbye, halcyon days," she uttered, wistful. Those would be times that would never come back, people they would never see again, and Jill berated herself inwardly as the reason why kept hitting her head like an anvil, trying to make her realize.

_All because of one of the many persons I hold dear to me._

"Even though it's nice to reminisce," Chris stated, "we need to have in mind what's going on now. They wouldn't like to see us like that, and especially Joseph."

Jill nodded, averting her gaze. "Especially Joseph," she echoed, a bit absentminded. What was she doing? Talking about her old comrades made her realize the difficulty and danger of her actual situation and smacked some sense into her, some much needed sense.

_I can't push him away... not now; I simply can't. I can't choose over one of them, but at the same time I can't let my heart be divided. Sooner or later, the problem will see the light... and that will be the time when I'll have to make my decision._

"_You can't worry about things that still haven't happened. What if they actually don't? All the concern will have been for nothing. Try and make your choices when they come up,"_ Richard would say against a distant situation that seemed problematic.

_I can't apply that philosophy now; this is much more complicated! But it's right in some way: what if nothing happens? What if this is something I can keep up with? It even has its positive side! Richard, your philosophies won't be forgotten... and neither will you._

"Damn, I miss those times," Jill said in an undertone as she brought up a knee and rested her left cheekbone upon it. Her gaze met Chris' once again, sharing a long stare that told her more than a thousand words. She didn't want to know about those thousand unspoken words; she wanted to know about the ones she would soon speak out. To be specific, they were three very simple words, but three words that would turn the world upside down. A few seconds went by before she felt Chris' hand upon her other cheek, his expression not mellowing in any way. That was no problem: his eyes told her otherwise. She smiled at him, truthfully, with the strength to do so.

"And I miss those smiles that made me hope," Chris said at last, his tone soothing. "I miss your smiles, your happy remarks, the jokes you frequently pulled on me... I miss _you_, Jill. Stay with me, okay?"

Jill was once again left speechless: Chris had finally opened the book, had let her have a gander at many of its pages, had let her know what was written in them. At last, she widened her smile, gripping his hand much tighter than before as she felt a single, lone tear sliding down her face. Chris' features changed, allowing a smile to lighten them up.

"Keep smiling, Jill, keep smiling." With these words, Chris stroked Jill's cheek, gesture that made her straighten with a sharp movement, grimacing inwardly at the pain she felt in her gut because of the knot of joy.

For the first time in her life, Jill Valentine felt truly happy.

Without thinking it anymore, Jill took the liberty to entangle her fingers in his soft dark hair and pushed herself closer to him. She kissed him; at last, she kissed him, declaring her love for him with each movement of her lips. Chris did the same from the very beginning, his lips fierce and demanding, letting her know of the love that had many times gone undeclared.

Jill let herself go as Chris pulled her onto his lap, one knee of hers at each side of his legs, and kissed her again as fiercely as before, his hands travelling into her hair and clasping it as Jill pressed harder. She knew he was nervous; she was too, but there was no way of letting that show. They broke away for a brief moment, very brief, and then Chris slid his tongue through her lips to start a new kiss, this time with a more sensual undertone.

_Oh god! This is crazy, but I love it._

Ginger and resolute at the same time, Jill did the same as him, following her instincts. As she did it, she found herself in a state close to ecstasy, bittersweet ecstasy that didn't let her think coherently. Slowly, so as to feel it without any rush, she slid her tongue through her lips to give a small lick to the corner of Chris' mouth before capturing his lips again in a gentle kiss.

Jill pressed herself closer to him, deepening the kiss and delighting in something as trivial as how Chris pushed here onto her back, almost refusing to cease contact. Without warning, Chris slid a hand to her thigh, pressing harder. All was passionate and almost uncontrolled until they both stopped and separated very slowly, as if everything depended on those two seconds that went by. Jill was left uneasy.

_I don't know why, but I feel we've gone too far..._

"I'm sorry, I don't know what hit me," Chris uttered, his expression sheepish and apologetic. Jill smiled kindly, keeping her arms around his neck... and trying to keep her heart at a steady pace.

"What hit you hit me, too. We're even," she teased, but then sighed. "Chris, I-"

"I don't want you to say anything now," he said, shaking his head. "Let the silence speak for itself."

And as their lips met again, Jill decided she could play along.

xx

"Say, brother, what do you think we could do with her?" Freya asked Vithar as she sheathed two kukri knives and strapped the sheaths at her belt. She glanced at Vithar, who finished holstering an AMT Hardballer at his thigh and yawned loudly.

"I wouldn't know, sis," he replied, wearily rubbing his eyes and letting his shoulders slump. "Maybe we can torture her our way, or each one to their own." Vithar sighed, sitting down on the floor and picking up a combat knife before sheathing it at his lower back. "Perhaps we can get her to drown or maybe make her shoot herself?"

Freya shook her head. "No, that wouldn't be fun."

"Then what do you take as 'fun', Freya?" asked Vithar, yawning again and stretching. "I feel tired; I don't want to overdo it. I feel weak, I don't have any energies. Let's get it over and done with soon, okay, sis?" Vithar let his head droop, even flexed his neck to the left, and blinked twice as he tried to shake his drowsiness off.

"That wouldn't be fun either. I'm sure that when you see blood, you'll feel better," said Freya with a soothing voice, crouching in front of her brother and ruffling his hair in a playful way. "It always happens. Besides, you need to sleep; we should do that before we leave."

Vithar yawned for the third time and nodded, agreeing with Freya. "But I'm not sure if I'll be able to sleep, sis," he objected, "because I never am. I _don't_ want to go to sleep; the burning at my legs will get worse and I'll hear screams again. Sis, I'm... I'm scared..." Vithar could do nothing to stop his flowing tears and clung at her sister's chest, his body racking as he sobbed.

"The screams will go away, I'm sure," she said, but her voice also broke and tears filled her onyx eyes. "Because mom and dad will go away, _everyone_ will go away. We'll forget, we'll forget about everything and everyone, and we'll keep going." Freya rested her forehead on top of Vithar's head, hearing her brother's sobs transform into full-fledged cries... and she sang their favourite lullaby in an attempt to calm Vithar down.

xx

"_Damn it, I'm at the end of my rope, Miss Birkin! How am I supposed to do this?_" a panicking David Janssen spoke into the phone. "_I can't- He's got Vithar and Freya here; Vithar's going to get Redfield's sister, Freya's heading to Africa!_"

Sherry frowned when she heard the names. "Wait, who are Vithar and Freya?" she asked, her tone one of alarm.

"_They're-they're assassins at Marco's command. He's going to send Freya there to take care of them, and he's also going to shut the facility down so they can't escape! I can't get Maria's help because she's completely oblivious to our affiliation, miss, and I can't tell her! Marco would get wind of this through her and that's when everything would go down the pan!_" David shot back. "_That's what I heard him say; I... I don't know if he might come up with a change of plans..._"

A change of plans? Why would Marco do that? What was he planning to do, for that matter?

_Sending the assassin to Africa? How the hell does he know Wesker and the others are there?!_

"Wait a second, how does Marco know they're there?!" Sherry asked, raising her voice in anxiety.

"_It's James! He's a mole! He's a spy for Marco! He went to Africa with them!_" David replied in a rush, and Sherry gasped in horror.

_I didn't tell him to go! Bastard, he sneaked into the plane! Absence for personal matters, huh? You're dead, James, I swear._

"Shit, and he's here with me now. He came back a day ago."

"_Be careful, he might attempt to do something!_" David warned. "_We're treading on thin ice!_"

"Then I'll try to get in contact with Claire as soon as I can," Sherry said, her voice resolute. "In the meantime, you'll have to accompany Vithar to get her. It's the only way we can't avoid suspicions from Marco... unless he doesn't already know of our affiliation."

Silence, then, "_Damn it, I wasn't employed to help in things like these... Okay, I'll do my best._"

"David, be careful. I want you back working with me, alright?" Sherry ordered, her tone gentle and authoritative. David gave a sad chuckle.

"_Can I say that I'll try?_" he asked in return, bitter. "_I'm on my way; you be careful too._"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, _qu'est-ce que c'est_?" Sherry heard the person beside her exclaim. It was Jean-Jacques, the computer expert and professional hacker. "_Nous avons un problème, cherie!_ The communications are being jammed!"

"What?!" Sherry exclaimed as she leaned down to have a glance at the computer. In fact, the monitor seemed to struggle to keep itself on, fighting against a surge of static and interference. "In a time like this?! Shit, what could be happening now?"

_JAMES!_

"_Je ne sais pas, _Sherry, but I'll find out," replied Jean-Jacques, immediately getting to work. Sherry let out a soft growl, clenching one of her fists and biting on a thumbnail.

_I know you're behind this, Marco. You're not going to get away, you son of a bitch. In the meantime, you're going to miss another partner._

Without saying anything else, Sherry strode out of the room and looked for James throughout the facility as well as she could. She asked fellow workers and researchers, but none of them had seen him: he'd vanished. Sherry thought of one last place to look: his quarters. She wasn't too surprised when she got there and found them empty: James was gone.

_So you like to play with fire, huh? You should be more careful or you'll get burned._

It was time to call a spade a spade.

_**Voi închide ochii şi respiraţi adânc,  
**__**voi deschide ochii şi voi fi liber.  
**__**Voi sta treaz, nu voi adormi,  
**__**pentru că nebunia fără nume a luat peste mine.**_

**_(The Nameless Madness, _**_Romanian._**_)_**

_****__****__****__**

* * *

**_

_A/N: Aha! Now you see what everyone is up to, and don't trust Marco's plans completely... he has a good way to change things to his own interest. Stay tuned for next update!^^_

_*Qu'est-ce que c'est - _  
_*Nous avons un problème, cherie! _- _We have a problem, miss (or dear).  
*Je ne sais pas - I don't know. _

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	19. Chapter XIX: Nebunie

**Author's Note: **Next update, and I have a piece of news: thanks to exams this next weeks, the updates might catch up to the chapters I have written; however, I'll try to work as fast as I can, so don't worry. I'll do my best not to delay any updates, since we still have five or six chapters left till the end. Things are getting complicated in this one now, so I leave you to read!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs**

**

* * *

**XIX

_Nebunie  
(Madness, Romanian)_

_'If you are going to walk on thin ice, you might as well dance!' __Anonymous_

**August 26****th****, 2009**

"Are we leaving now, mis...mister?"

David couldn't help jumping in surprise, taking a hand to his chest as he realized who was standing behind him. Vithar had his head cocked to one side, his shoulder slumped as always, his knees buckled as always, and his ever-present gleam of tiredness and insanity in his sapphire gaze. The poor boy was cataplexic, hence why he always looked so tired and lacking energy to even breathe.

David nodded. "Yes. I was actually waiting for you, Vithar." The boy nodded, yawning, and stepped past David before he asked, "Vithar, can you tell me about you and Freya?"

Vithar turned with a sharp movement. "Why would you want to know? There's only pain and darkness in our...our pasts. My sis and I never talk about it."

"I'm sorry then, I didn't mean anything by that," said David, dipping his head at the black-haired boy.

"But I want to tell you," Vithar continued, and his words left David confused. "We're not really si...siblings by blood, but because of our long...long history together. Freya was born during Ceaucescu's regime in Romania and after he was dismissed, she was sold to the black market. I myself was born in Romania too, also in condi...conditions of poverty. I was...was abandoned by my family because they could...couldn't feed my siblings and me. I was the youngest so...so I was bought by dealers. Coin...coincidentally I met Freya whilst in...in the dealer's hands. In 1999, we...we were taken in by the Gionne family and were... were trained as assassins."

"But why like assassins? Are you so desperate to kill people?" David asked, shocked after hearing Vithar's and Freya's story. Vithar gave a tired smile and shrugged his shoulders.

"We're not desperate to kill and tear families apart; it's because we want to. People have forgotten our tragedy, have... have forgotten all we went through. They...they think we're scum and worthless trash. Fre...Freya and I decided it was time to...to show them we are still in this world, as something more than scum," explained the boy, rubbing his eyes like a three year old child. David frowned, somehow understanding how Vithar felt.

David himself had been born into Romania during the regime, coming from a Norwegian family, and by the age of five he had been taken out of the country and taken under his uncle's care in Finland. He had never heard from his parents ever since. He had been close to losing his sanity but thanks to his remaining family, he had kept sane.

If only the same had happened to Vithar.

xx

With the files stored in the data core of the facility and a password forbidding access to anyone who didn't know about it, their protection was assured. With the password in your mind and with the intention of not saying a damned word about it, it was even more protected. But not when hacking was a solution to the problem.

It hadn't taken Wesker seconds to notice something was wrong with the main computer, since he never, _ever_ left the menu and the search screen open. Upon further examination, he came to a dreadful conclusion about which he knew who to blame. Someone had been snooping around the files stored there and had selected four specific ones: his and Chris' medical report and the notes enclosed to them, the main report about the new formula of PG and what left him with a bitter taste, the continuation of his research on Uroboros.

And they weren't stored there anymore.

In that moment, right when a curse was about to break the silence, Chris and Jill made their appearance at the elevator, and Wesker was brought out of his thoughts by the question that was meant to be asked.

"Is there something wrong?"

"There is, and something of which you might be held responsible," he replied, gazing at Jill. "Where did you leave James after you found him dead?"

Jill frowned. "I didn't move him from where he was... and he really was dead, if that's what you're asking-" She soon interrupted herself, apparently having reached the same conclusion Wesker had a split second ago. "You mean it could all have been a ruse to fool us?"

"Most likely," Wesker nodded. "Fake death pills are of great use sometimes, and too bad there was no way to notice it; the syringe was a good way to make it seem otherwise. We have to get out of here now, and we might find him along the way if he isn't gone yet. Is everything set?" This time, he looked at Chris, who nodded as a response.

"Chopper will be here in hour and a half. I set the extraction point at the helipad at the dock."

"Then let's leave this formatting; there's nothing of good use here now."

"It's the BSAA who're coming?" Jill asked Chris, and Wesker closed his eyes in exasperation. The last thing he needed was to have more agents of the Alliance behind his trail: he was officially dead. Having been alive for so long sometimes made you forget the remaining billions of people thought you dead and buried hundreds of feet underground.

"Yeah," Chris replied. "There's no need to worry about double-crossers now: it's Sheva and Josh who're coming. You should've heard them, Jill." His tone changed, fact that told Wesker he was either smirking or smiling; he still refused to look back at him.

"What about the rest of the files?" Jill asked.

"The four most important ones were taken by the weasel James is," Wesker replied as he punched in a code (_20-06-11-23_), and then the sign of 'ALL DATA DELETION' came up on the screen, "but that's of little importance. I didn't keep security copies for nothing." Instinctively, he took his hand to one of his pockets and felt for the small USB disk stored inside; it still was there.

_Too bad I didn't have time to update the files. This will have to-_

Before he could finish the thought, all the lights were turned off and the wail of an alarm pierced the silence they had allowed to reign. The only source of light were the small red bulbs posted upon the doors' thresholds; there was no other way to keep track of what happened around him. And then, on the screen, appeared the notice that reminded Wesker of the conversation he had kept up with Chris a few days ago.

"_What we can do is hope there's no electricity cut. This facility has a nasty security system: if the lockdown commences, there'll be no way to get out of here."_

'COMPLEX LOCKDOWN INITIATED'.

_Then if this has started, the auxiliary exit will be opened in minutes!_

Although there was no time to stay and check, Wesker -and later, Chris- trotted to the edge of the elevator and stole a glance at the bottomless pit the shaft seemed to be. They couldn't see anything -maybe Chris could, but anyway- but they soon heard the creaking of the gate, holding its ground against the pressure.

"It's not open yet; we still have time," said Chris, who in fact could see.

"We'll take the east door, it gets to the outside faster," Jill intervened, starting towards the door opposite the one she and Chris and entered through.

Before the rest of them could move, they heard a feminine voice ringing loudly throughout the shaft.

"_Te duci să moară!!_" it shouted as the owner of the voice didn't reveal herself.

"Get to the door, now!" That was all Wesker needed to run at full pelt out of the shaft, pushing Chris and Jill to get them to do the same as him. They didn't need any explanations, but as soon as they were at midway of the bridge, the door to the elevator started to close and fast. The bolt of surprise that struck Wesker didn't take a split second to put all systems to work at their maximum; otherwise, they wouldn't make it.

"_Te duci să moară!!_" the voice shouted again, this time in a much more shriller tone.

"Go, go! Hurry!" Chris exclaimed as they all increased their speed as much as they could. Jill crawled under the door and made it to the other side by the skin of her teeth, but the same couldn't be said about him and Chris, who soon found a solution to their problem. It was their only way of avoiding a certain death, a death which was seconds away from getting them and claiming their lives. Before the door could close, Chris ducked under it, half of his body already on the other side, and held the door's weight upon his shoulder, easing the force of the weight with his hands.

"Come on!" he urged Wesker, but he was already halfway under the door. He turned around and held the door as well as he could so Chris could escape from its weight in time; for all intents and purposes, they _had_ to cooperate this time or else failure in the form of death was granted.

Suddenly, everything returned to normal: the sirens went quiet, the doors stopped closing, they heard the _boom _of the gate closing, the lights returned and so did silence. Like nothing had ever happened.

Chris shifted his stance, withdrawing from under the door, and they saw it had indeed stopped. Jill ducked behind them and asked, "What just happened?"

"Override sequence?" Chris asked Wesker, not without reluctance. Wesker stayed silent for a moment, quickly scanning the shaft for anyone's presence. At last, focusing on Chris' question, he gave a light nod.

"And that hasn't been us or whoever's around here," he then said, his voice pitched low. "Keep silent, head up the hall, double quick." Wesker was sure that order had surprised his companions: once in a mission in S.T.A.R.S., he'd issued the same command in the same tone. Such bitter memories.

Without a sound, Wesker sprung to his feet along with Chris and Jill and headed up the hall, their steps as quick and silent as they could give them. As they kept trotting through the halls that snaked and bended throughout the facility, Jill inquired,

"What language was that?"

Chris was the one to answer. "It's Romanian," he replied, then spoke with a teasing tone. "It looks like you didn't pay much attention at our assignment in Craiova."

"We're going to die, that's what she said," Wesker piped up as they took a turn. At the foot of a staircase, Wesker stopped and so did the others.

_Looks like she's not following us._

"Our things are all packed; there are just a couple of duffel bags to carry with us," Jill said, breaking the silence. "We only need to go and get them."

"I'm faster; I'll go get them," Chris offered, and Wesker tilted his head.

"You're reckless, did you know that?" he said, more a statement than a question. Chris scowled at him, his nose wrinkling slightly as he showed his annoyance.

"Let's not waste time," Jill piped up, stepping between them. "Chris, I'll be fine; I don't need you to worry about me, but yourself." Silence ensued, silence during which Chris showed himself to be extremely reluctant to let her go with Wesker, who was enjoying his dilemma.

_Afraid that I'll take her away from you again?_

"Okay," Chris agreed at last, "you're right: we're wasting time." Wesker didn't move, but kept mocking him inwardly.

_Finally some sensible reasoning coming from you, Chris._

"We'll meet up at the dock, just in case you can't catch up," said Wesker, deciding to intervene and keeping his voice from sounding caustic. No special reason behind it; if Chris engaged in a verbal fight, they would keep wasting time. "_Don't_ take too long," he added as he started trotting up the staircase, Jill following closely at a firm pace.

"I just hope he's fine," he heard Jill whisper. Her remark made him smirk with dark humour.

"You can't imagine how much I disagree to that."

xx

Chris retraced his steps and took the hall opposite to the one they had taken, heading west of the facility to the main lab rooms. His photographic memory, along with his newly-acquired speed, helped him reach the room in no time and with no troubles at all, although he did keep an eye out for the stranger who was stalking them. Chris heard her cackles here and there, echoing through the halls, accompanied by metallic clinging and a sound as loud and shrill as the one of nails being slid down a wall. Fortunately, she hadn't decided to go and get Jill; he couldn't care less about Wesker. Chris could handle the stranger.

Once inside the room, he caught sight of the bags resting on top of the table and approached it. At midway, a wave of pain struck him unexpectedly and triggered a loud ringing in his ears: the symptoms that told him he was in need of a PG shot. His vision swam before his eyes and he felt an incredibly intense sickness settle in his stomach. His pride was hurt: how the hell had he come to behave as someone like Wesker? Why was he using all that he had used to tame the virus inside him?

_**No, not to tame the virus, but the MONSTER!**_

_There's no way I can keep myself alive if it isn't with the PG. I have to take a shot!_

_**To keep taming the **__**MONSTER!**_

_No, I'm no monster!_

In less time than he could think of, Chris reached inside a bag for a small attaché case and fumbled with the latches as he tried to open it with shaky hands. For some reason, terror was getting the best of him; those thoughts that had just assailed his mind were the stimuli for that terror to arise and take over. Finally, he could grab a syringe and inject himself with it, his blood burning when the substance started coursing through his bloodstream. When the vial was empty, Chris yanked it out carelessly, drawing a bit of blood, and threw the empty syringe against the nearest wall. Rage followed that terror, terror followed that rage: it was a constant succession of emotions that were making him sicker than the lack of serum.

"_Te duci să moară,_" the girlish voice spoke behind him. With a brusque movement, Chris swivelled around and found their stalker standing feet away from him: a girl, a deadly pale girl with whitish hair and intense onyx eyes.

She giggled, eyeing him intently as Chris stared in disbelief. For a short moment, he lost rationality and was unable to move, only able to keep trying to calm his escalated breathing. The girl was smiling like a devil, clenching and unclenching her fists around the two kukri knives she had in her hands.

"_Sunteţi un monstru ca mine,_" she said, tilting her head as her gaze acquired a sympathetic gleam.

"_Nu sunt monstru!_" Chris exclaimed, using the little Romanian he knew. "_Cine esti tu?_" he then asked, adopting a defensive stance and keeping a close eye on the kukri.

"Freya," she simply said, taking a few steps towards him. Chris gasped, backing away. Why was he so afraid? What was making him lose control? Freya stopped and smiled. "_Nu vă fie teamă. Înţeleg cum te simţi,_" she then told him.

"What-what did you just say?" Chris inquired, raising his voice, but Freya wasn't intimidated by that.

"I said that you don't have to be afraid. I understand how you feel," she replied, her voice soft and gentle. That gentleness was like a thousand daggers to Chris, who had the unmistakeable feeling that he was going insane. It was a pulsating, throbbing sensation in his mind, a sensation of helplessness and impotence, a sensation of fear and anger, of wicked glee and mirth.

"You don't understand! I'm not a monster," he growled, tensing beyond human levels. In the end, Freya smiled more widely and raised the kukri.

"_Să lupta!_" exclaimed Freya as she charged, both kukri gripped tightly. He didn't understand, but there was no need to. Chris avoided her initial slashes, focusing as much as he could in deciphering her attack pattern and find the proper counterattack, but Freya kept attacking in different ways, each one trickier and trickier. One of the kukri was inches from slitting his throat; stumbling backwards had worked to Chris' advantage this time. He fell onto his back and kept moving from one side to another to dodge the girl's vicious attacks. Her insane cackles were even louder than the sound the kukri emitted when they clashed against the white-tiled floor, and Chris soon disposed of her with a fierce kick to her gut.

He sprung to his feet and rushed to where Freya was thanks to his superhuman speed, something he wasn't used to use when in battle. He kicked the kukri out of her hands and pinned her against the floor by the throat. Freya gasped for air, wriggling and fighting desperately to free herself from his grip, but Chris wouldn't let go; in fact, he _didn't_. He suddenly felt like a sadist, delighting in seeing his victims in pain, and tried to fight off that sensation without avail. He liked it: it was bittersweet. He could taste it, and found it the most pleasant taste ever: the taste of an enemy's death, the taste of _his own_ death.

One of Freya's strangled gasps brought him back to reality, and Chris released her with an exclamation in horror and surprise: what had he just tried to do? He stared at the girl, who coughed and scrambled away from him with a look of terror across her pale features.

"_Monstru! Monstru!_" she repeated over and over again, and the truth dawned upon Chris like a morbid surprise. In that moment, Freya's eyes filled with tears which soon trailed down her bony cheeks and she stood up, looking at him with her eyes ablaze with hate. "_Va veti pierde, şi nu va fi nimeni să vă ajutăm!_"

With that, she ran away, leaving Chris in a stone silence. In that moment, he wanted to have someone near him not to ask for consolation, but to hurt them and palliate his anger and anguish through inflicting pain in others. It seemed sick, but it was what would make him feel better. Chris shook his head, trying to clear it, but that thought wouldn't leave his mind.

"I'm... I almost killed her, and... and I was liking it..." he whispered, noticing something wet flowing down his face. Without caring about what he had to do, Chris brought both hands to his head and stayed sitting at the foot of the table, shaking uncontrollably.

"What's happening to me...?"

_**You're going INSANE, Redfield, that's what's happening.**_

_In-insane? _

_**INSANE, you know it. In fact, you went insane long ago; the thing is you haven't shown it. Finally, it's time to let it show, let everyone see what you're made of. **_

_No, I'm not insane! I can't be! _

_**Yeah, you keep denying it. It'll come back and bite you in the ass, and you'll feel the most excruciating PAIN of your life.**_

_NO! I'm NOT insane!! I still myself, I'm no monster!!_

Chris ducked his head even more, hiding his face from sight, and exclaimed in pain as he tried to keep the dilemma on a leash. What if he was _truly_ insane? He couldn't be, it simply couldn't be! It was all so far-fetched that he didn't want to accept it. But insanity could invade even the purest of minds, that much was certain.

Suddenly, Chris heard more voices, this time many that called his name at the same time. Their pitches were different, but he soon understood they belonged to the same person. Ginger, he snapped out of his thoughts and lifted his head, finding Jill crouching in front of him and shaking him gently whilst she took his shoulders.

"Chris! Chris, answer me!" she pleaded, her eyes gleaming with alarm and concern, but Chris didn't reply, simply remained looking at her. He couldn't speak, he didn't _want_ to, in fact. In the end, he blinked a few times and uttered,

"Jill?"

She sighed in relief and took his hand. "Yeah, it's me. What's wrong? What are you doing here?" she asked, helping him to stand up. "We were starting to get worried about you; are you okay?"

Chris nodded, presenting Jill with a blatant lie; it wasn't the best time for her to know. "Yeah, I just... I think I passed out; I-I needed a PG shot," he explained, taking a hand to his head and rubbing his temple. Knowing how bright Jill was and how well she knew him, Chris had the feeling Jill had seen through his lie and would insist right then and there, but that didn't happen.

_Jill, I'm going insane!_ He would've liked to tell her, but it was better if he kept those thoughts to himself for the moment.

"That's good to hear. C'mon, I'll help you," Jill offered, reaching for one of the bags. When she looked back up at him, Chris saw her frowning. "Chris, you're shaking!"

Chris blinked a few times in surprise as a shiver ran down his spine. Unconsciously, he glanced out at his hands: indeed, they were shaking beyond normalcy. Surprise course through him: he hadn't even noticed! And the same happened with his knees, which threatened to buckle under him and cause him to collapse. Chris shook his head, swallowing, and met Jill's gaze.

"It must be the secondary effects. Don't worry, this has happened before." In truth, it hadn't happened before. It was the first time Chris was feeling like that, and it certainly wasn't because of the secondary effects the serum had on him, no. This was different. Jill remained silent for a few more seconds, her frown not disappearing, until she sighed, laid a hand on his own and said, "Alright, then I trust you. Let's get going; we're going home now."

It was not without trepidation that Chris broke into a run behind Jill. Somehow, Chris literally _dreaded_ seeing everyone again, especially Claire. His mind was divided; he didn't know what to think. The reasonable side of his mind told him there was nothing to be concerned about; Claire would see he was still alive and that's the only thing that mattered. The other side, the irrational but sensible one, told him Claire would see him as a brother no more: he had become that which he hated the most.

_**It's because you're a MONSTER, and you can't do anything about that.**_

_I shouldn't be thinking like this. I'm sure I can explain everything to Claire; with a bit of time, she will understand. _

And that was his biggest mistake.

_**Why do you take everything for granted?**_

Chris didn't reply to that question: Jill's voice brought him out of his thoughts once again. "Chris, are you really okay? Your mind keeps going to the clouds; it's freaking me out," she told him, another frown across her face. Chris felt like an automaton, lacking control of his own actions and acting like a robot: he had completely spaced out and had left his body working on its own, and it felt weird every time he was brought down to the real world again.

Taking a deep breath, Chris looked away from her and bit his lip. In the end, he said, "I'll... tell you once we get back, alright? It's not the proper place to talk about it." He caught the look of surprise that flashed across her features, but she didn't insist any further and nodded, although not without reluctance. Chris flashed her a faint smile, one she returned. He looked up in front of him, caught sight of the helicopter already with its engines warmed up and of three people waiting at the helipad: Wesker, Sheva and Josh. Chris felt a pinch of relief after seeing them there, but trepidation still clouded his mind.

"Chris, Jill!" he heard Sheva exclaim as she and Josh neared them. Chris couldn't help being upset by their arrival, neither could he help feeling relieved by their presence. So much antagonism... He received an encouraging look from Jill, but that didn't do much good. When Sheva and Josh were close enough, they stopped in their tracks, Sheva's face being the one that showed more shock. Chris couldn't take his gaze away from them even if he wanted to; he knew what would happen if he kept staring at them, but also if he turned away.

"Chris, what-?" Sheva started and, as Chris expected, she couldn't finish the sentence. Eventually, she did, "What happened to you?"

Chris took a deep breath, nodding gravely in agreement.

"Everything's vice-versa, isn't it?" It wasn't a question, but a statement. Jill frowned at him, giving a low sigh, and Sheva neared Chris, hesitant, as if looking for something in his gaze. "This is what's happened, Sheva," he said, his tone low. Afterwards, he flashed her a sad smirk, "and mind your words about me next time, will you?"

"_Even a superhero like you, Chris."_

It hadn't been a second before Chris realized Sheva understood what he meant.

"Chris-" started Josh, but Chris held a hand to silence him.

"We'll talk later and... and I'll explain everything. I'm not in the best of moods now," he told Josh, staring into his eyes. Chris' heightened sense of smell allowed him to discern two familiar but till now unknown scents: the scents of fear, doubt and trepidation. Both Sheva and Josh reeked of them and, for some reason, Chris couldn't take it.

"Chris, at least tell us a bit," Jill insisted, and Chris had to stifle the urge to snap at her with all the rage he held inside. The best thing he could do was calm down and reply without being harsh. As he made that decision, a smirk spread across his features and he chuckled, realizing what he was doing. Only someone who was insane would laugh at something like his condition.

"Really, I insist, don't listen to me for now," he said, lifting his gaze at the two Africans, and it was then when Chris saw a look of nervousness across Sheva's features. "Just... have in mind that I'm not who you think I am anymore."

_Leave me be... please; don't come close to me anymore..._

Erasing his smirk from his face, Chris laid a hand on Sheva's shoulder before stepping past them and heading for the helicopter, fighting desperately to keep his head high. He didn't hear them following him, neither did he need to hear that. He couldn't face them, and he certainly couldn't dump all of his worries and troubles off on them. Chris needed to keep his distance, even from Jill, _especially_ from Jill.

Wesker's silhouette became clearer as he approached him, and Chris wanted to believe Wesker's gaze was lost somewhere in the distance and not following him as stepped in front of the helicopter. He was wrong.

"You'll get used to it soon."

"I don't need any words coming from you, so save them!" Chris replied, deadly harsh. Chris knew Wesker wouldn't normally turn his head to him but now, he did, and it repulsed him. To stare into the eyes that could still be his, to hear the calm voice that could still be his: it was unnerving, terrifying, madness-inducing. They looked so alike to what they were before that Chris wanted to strip Wesker of his own nature and claim it for himself, because he knew Wesker had stolen it from him.

_What-what is this? Jealousy?! Why am I feeling like this? I have nothing to envy him for!!_

"You're getting snappier by the minute, aren't you?" Wesker prompted once again, this time no amusement present in his features. That was the last straw: with only so much as a side-step, Chris placed himself in front of Wesker and grabbed him by the neck -and not the collar of his shirt, like Chris would've done with someone else. He shoved him roughly against the helicopter and kept his sworn enemy at arm's length as he pressed hard, feeling how Wesker's trachea would give in at any given moment.

Wesker struggled against Chris' grip subtly, so much that he didn't even stop to gasp for air and immediately pried at Chris' hand, easing the grip. Chris wouldn't budge though and kept pressing. It was there once more: the sensation he'd felt when choking Freya, this time its intensity having multiplied a hundredfold, this time because it was his enemy who was in front of him, prying at Chris' fingers with two gloved hands. Ah, and so weak... they were so weak they couldn't do anything.

_Control yourself, keep it at bay! You're NOT like this!!_

"You're... you've finally realized, haven't you?" Wesker managed to say, a cruel smirk upon his face. "Now... you will understand e-everything..."

_**It's because you're a MONSTER, and you can't do anything about that.**_

"Chris, stop it!!"

He jolted awake like coming out of a dream, no dizziness or daze to shake off, and he jerked his arm away, feeling like an electric shock had struck it. Chris watched Wesker stagger slightly as he regained his balance, and he remained staring at him as horror coursed through his body once more. He heard Jill, Sheva and Josh stepping beside him, and Jill took the liberty of placing herself in front of him.

_Get out of my way._

_**KILL her! Come ON!**_

Chris continued to ignore the voice in his head, the voice coming from another part of his mind. That was no different voice though: it was his own, they were his instincts. He fixed his gaze upon Jill's determined one, a scowl on her features and her eyes narrowed. Her breathing was calm and rhythmical, showing how much of a cool head she was keeping.

_**That won't be enough to stop you.**_

He caught Wesker's gaze upon him, and he clenched his fist to keep anger at bay; it wasn't the moment for the others to watch a massacre.

_Ma-massacre? What am I thinking?_

"If we're complete opposites now, then I suggest you keep your mouth shut," Chris growled, his words dripping with rage. "That won't be for long though. I'll get myself back and fight this, because I refuse to be like you."

But even Chris wasn't sure of his own words.

xx

_He was alone, again, thinking, pondering. _

_Much to his fortune, the humid and salty beach breeze did some good and helped him arrange his thoughts, but Chris knew he still had a long way to go till everything was in order. He stared at the orange and pastel skyline in front of him, which reminded him of the time when he and his family had come to Miami to visit some distant relatives. That day, Claire had stubbornly insisted to get down to the beach, even though Chris himself hadn't been too fond of the idea. From that day on, looking at the sea would be the only thing that'd help him clear his mind._

"We Redfields tend to keep going until the end, no matter what."

_Too bad that the good man Sean Redfield had been was long gone. _

_Chris was surprised to find nobody around when he had a look at his surroundings, the sand as calm and unruffled as if it had never been stepped on. The only footsteps that were around were his own, a mere pair of footprints that would be left where he had stood. Suddenly, with renewed conviction, Chris looked to his right, found nothing but sand in his way. This sand didn't have any footprints on it either: what did it mean? Could it possibly mean that he had to walk down a new path, make it his own? Unexplored things tended to end up explored, and it would be the same thing with these sands. _

What can I do?

"You will fall, but you'll learn to pick yourself up and keep going, because that's the only thing you will be able to do."

_Too bad that the strong woman Amanda Redfield, née Saunderson had been was long gone._

_He missed them, Chris missed them terribly. It was because of the sudden wave of nostalgia that struck him that he did not move, lost his conviction, started shaking. He didn't even feel the knot that caught in his throat, the sorrow that overcame him. Then, without thinking, he started running, leaving rushed but solid footprints in his wake, symbolizing the start of his new path._

_And then, he fell into the eternal darkness._

XX

**Pennsylvania, USA  
August 27****th****, 2009  
3:30 am.**

Jill watched Chris' eyes snap open, wide and gleaming intensely as he sat up and recovered from his sleep. There seemed to be no middle ground between his daze and full awareness: he went from one state to the other in mere milliseconds. Without a sound, she waited for him to notice her, but Chris seemed engrossed in thought as his blank gaze stared at nowhere in particular. Unable to bear with the sight of him because of the grief that would strike her every time, Jill lowered hers and kept it hidden behind her arms.

It had been the early hours of the morning when they had arrived to the States from Africa, close to one thirty. Sheva and Josh had stayed in Africa, where they were meant to be, not without wishing Jill and Chris farewell. Jill had seen abnormal concern towards Chris in Sheva's eyes and once she'd reassured Sheva of her former partner's mind state, the African woman had shook her head and said, _"It's not him I'm worried about, Jill." _Jill was unable to do nothing, only nod in agreement: Sheva had a point. She also feared for him, also feared for _them_.

They were back into the facility below ground, in Pennsylvania, where they hadn't found Sherry due to unspecified reasons, so had the researcher in charge said. With Sherry absent, they were at their leisure to use as much as time as they needed to recover from the trip and the tension and clear their minds of unsettling thoughts. As Jill had expected, Chris had been her most unsettling thought: not that his mind had shown itself to get worse, but she couldn't believe how much he had changed in just six days. Normally, out of what she knew, viruses took their time to cause the secondary effects, all in a slow and gradual process (sometimes faster than usual), but in Chris it had been instant. Jill had considered asking Wesker for... assistance, as he would put it, but not yet: she still had to find a way to solve the problem herself.

"How long have you been there?" Chris asked to no-one in particular, seemingly acknowledging her presence. Jill shifted in the armchair into a more comfortable position before his eyes met hers.

"Long enough to see you start tossing and turning," she replied, somehow uneasy. Chris gave a sad smirk.

"Taking care of me now?" he scoffed, humourless. Jill frowned at his apathy, stood up and approached him, going to leave a hand on his shoulder. Before she could do so, Chris gripped her wrist and kept her hand away, not breaking eye contact. "Not now," he said. "I don't want to do anything stupid."

"I'm not going to coax you into doing that," Jill insisted out of instinct. Chris' gaze turned hard and she understood: it was time she left him alone. It would break her heart though, knowing she could be there with him when there was still time. "Tell me something, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

Chris let go of her wrist and heaved a sigh. "Can I _really_ tell you?"

"It can't be that bad, can it?" Jill asked back, hesitant. A smile tugged at Chris' lips, and a bolt of trepidation struck her.

"Well then, I'll tell you: _you_ tell me if you consider it bad or not," Chris said, shifting and sitting so that he faced her. Jill saw in him a somehow challenging air of smugness, one that she didn't know how to interpret. "To be blunt, I'm spinning out of control; I don't know if I can keep up with this any longer. I'm not who I used to be anymore, and you know it. I even-"

Jill gasped as he choked back his words. Without anything else to say, Chris stood up and backed away from her, paling as if he'd just seen a ghost. She had never seen him like this, and she was sure that it wouldn't be the last time.

"Chris, what's-?" she went to ask, but Chris interrupted her with a blunt gesture of his hands.

"Get away from me!" he exclaimed, shaking his head as she stepped closer. "I told you to stay away, Jill!"

_What's gotten into him?_

"Listen to me, please, be reasonable! Why do you want me to get away?" Jill asked, keeping a cool head and a calm voice. In the end, he touched against the wall and stayed there, looking for a way to escape like a mouse facing a viper. "Chris, answer me!"

"Jill, don't make me do this!" he shot back, and suddenly his breathing escalated, panting like an athlete after a marathon but with an undertone of grief and anguish. Jill stopped on her tracks, watching him as he watched her. Chris took both hands to his head and released a short yet powerful cry of pain as he collapsed against the wall and slid down the wall into a sitting position. Jill felt her heart sink when she heard him break into barely audible sobs: it even hurt her more than she would've imagined. Hearing Chris cry had been thought as impossible, as much as time stopping.

Ginger, Jill closed in on him and sat down beside Chris, reaching out to snake an arm around his shoulders and rub his arm kindly.

"Jill, I'm... I'm losing myself, I don't-don't know how to keep up with it!" he explained, his voice cracking here and there. "It's been three times already that I've tried to kill someone -no, let me rephrase that: I wanted to _slaughter_ them. First it was with this-this assassin Marco sent to kill us," Chris made a small pause, shaking his head, "and I pinned her with a chokehold... dammit, it even felt good! I was-I was about to start delighting in it: it was... uncontrollable! The same happened when... with Wesker too; it was all so... so different... Now the last thing I want is to hurt you, because I know I can... I felt tempted to do so once."

"When I confronted you back at Africa, perhaps?" she said as a wild and not so wild guess. Chris nodded.

"I'm even afraid of facing Claire... that is, if I do face her."

Jill felt impotent all of a sudden. It was true that Chris sometimes tended to take things out of scale, but this was different: there was no way he could be exaggerating now. Besides, it all seemed true, she had little pieces of evidence. Those pieces of evidence would be the key to solving the problem, and Jill was willing to do so. As Chris calmed down, she ran a hand through his hair and forced him to look at her. His ginger, uneasy and glassy gaze met hers.

"You're not losing yourself, Chris," she said, trying to calm his nerves. "You're still yourself. I know it's not easy to get used to it, but you can't let those thoughts cross your mind. If you do, you will truly cease to be Chris, the Chris we all know."

"And who is that Chris that you claim to know?"

Silence followed his words, silence during which Chris showed himself to be contemplative as he dried his eyes and clutched his knees against his chest. Jill decided not to say anything and let him think, since she did not know what to say to his question, but she didn't leave his side. She didn't keep track of the time they stayed in silence, but it was clear that it'd have to be for as long as it was necessary for Chris to reach a conclusion.

"One that kept fighting until the end, no matter what; one that did not allow thoughts like those to cross his mind, one that was always with us, be it through sadness or joy. We can't allow you to act like this; besides, you told me the same," she told him later, sitting in front of him.

"If I'm not losing myself," he asked at last, locking gazes with her, "then how can I show it? Look at me, I'm thrashed!"

Jill smiled in spite of his reaction. "Well, I know that; we're not very decent yet," she said, catching sight of his light stubble. "I know what you mean, though, and the best way to show it is to not try and keep a leash on yourself. By doing that, you restrain who you really are. It might not be much, but it's the only thing I can tell you. I did the same and it worked."

Chris nodded, sighing. "I'm still not sure if it'll work with me, but... it won't hurt to try. Why is it that you always know what to say?"

"I've been through situations like those, Chris, and I have the experience," Jill replied. "At first, it's not easy to keep your thoughts in order, but then you learn to live with it, find other ways to beat it." Jill stood up, gazed down at him as she held out a hand for him to take, and he did so, springing to his feet. They remained in silence for a few seconds, and then Jill reached up to touch his face. Shaking his head, Chris took a step back, holding up his hands to stop her.

"Jill, wait. There's no telling what I might do next, and I don't want to-"

"Hey, hey, calm down," she insisted, not willing to stay away. "Why are you making those assumptions? If you do, you might as well just stop fighting and hurt me. That's not something you want, is it?" She placed herself mere inches away from him; she needed to get him used to her presence once again. If not, he was as good as lost. "You won't do that, Chris, you know that. You're strong, remember?"

"But not as much as I would like, and you_ know that_," he replied, shifting nervously.

"Please, Chris, get that out of your damnably stubborn head!" Jill half-teased, half-scolded, this time taking both hands to his face. "My words won't do anything if you don't do something _yourself_! I can only tell you something that you can do, but it's up to you to carry it out! Don't be so demanding, you've done enough... yes, even though enough is never enough, there's always a limit, and going over it is never good."

Chris remained silent, blinking rapidly, and Jill hoped he was reconsidering. She couldn't see him like this, she just couldn't, not when Chris suffered mainly because of his too high goals. In the end, he said,

"Sheva once told me that there's always so much one can do, even someone like me. Do you think it's time I stopped?"

"It's not about stopping or continuing, it's about being sensible," Jill said in return. "It's true that one's limits can always be stretched further, but only so much. There's always a time when you have to live up to it and not ask more of yourself. Look at me: during my years... in captivity, if I had asked more and more of myself, I would've suffered more than I already did. Of course, strength is always necessary, but if you can't show yourself to be stronger, then it's fine. Everyone has their limits, and they have to find them sooner or later."

"Then I think I've found mine," Chris agreed, all anguish disappearing from his features. "You're right, I'm not thinking. I don't think because I _don't know_ what to think."

"I know why you do it, but knowing your limits is a human thing," Jill said with a mild chuckle, "and before you say anything else, yes, you're still human. For me, you always are. My feelings for you haven't changed, you should know that."

"What's nice to know is that I'm no monster, although that's kind of a strong term," he replied, smiling a bit more. "I guess it'll take some time for me to get used to it, but I promise I will fight; you're not going to lose me. I should've listened before."

"You were already too confused as it was, idiot, and you tend to take things out of scale."

"What was that?" Chris argued, but he could not keep a wider smile from spreading. "Yeah, you're right once more. You never get to know yourself as much as you would want."

Jill, in return, couldn't hold back a smile either; in fact, she wanted to smile, to tell him that she would be with him. She saw resolve in Chris' gaze, hope and strength, all mixed with sorrow and grief. Out of impulse, she said, "You're going to like this, trust me." Before Chris could question her, she laid a hand on his eyes and hid the world from his sight, chuckling as he did.

Jill lowered his face down and laid her lips on his, presenting with a chaste yet emotional kiss. Chris soon responded to the gesture, bringing Jill closer ever so slightly. For a moment, Jill forgot what she was doing, but then came to her sensed and broke away as the same time he did; that way, there would be no way for him to notice her hesitation. Refusing to leave him, Jill wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her face on his chest, relaxing as much as she could in his company. Chris left his arms around her and there they stayed in the middle of the night, waiting for slumber to take them.

_This is not right... but I still love him. I can't push him away, I can't choose one over the other; I love them both._

And she wouldn't choose, no matter what.

* * *

_A/N: So, Jill can't make her mind up yet, huh? Well, don't worry, the drama will start soon. I'm not giving any info about Claire now since everything will be revealed in later chapters, no need to be confused. A few facts: the twins Vithar and Freya are named after the Norse god of vengeance and the goddess of beauty and, among others, death. Both of them have some kind of disorder: for example, Vithar is a boy suffering from severe cataplexy, meaning he has severe muscle weakness that presents itself through many symptoms. As for Freya, she has a bipolar disorder and there's two sides to her personality. This will be explored further along the story and the sequel, mhkay? XD_

_*Te duci să moară – _You're going to die._  
*Sunteţi un monstru ca mine –_ You're a monster like me.  
*_Nu sunt monstru! –_ I'm no monster_.  
*Cine esti tu? - _Who are you?_  
*Nu vă fie teamă. Înţeleg cum te simţi – _Don't be afraid. I understand how you feel.  
*_Să lupta! - _Let's fight!  
*_Monstru! Monstru! Va veti pierde, şi nu va fi nimeni să vă ajutăm! - _Monster! Monster! You're going to lose yourself, and there will be no-one to help you!

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	20. Chapter XX: Requiem For Those We Cherish

**Author's Note:** Okay, just a bit of an announcement. Since thanks to school the updates are catching up to the chapters I have completed and I'm currently working on the next chapter, the updates will resume their weekly rate again so that I have time to work. And another announcement... please, for new readers, read the warning at the beginning... Yes, I know you're not new readers and the person/people in question should know that I'm referring to them and them alone. This will go like I have it planned, so stop with the harshness, alright?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs**

**

* * *

**XX

Requiem For Those We Cherish

_'Since we cannot change reality, let us change the eyes which see reality.' __Nikos Kazantzakis._

**4:00 am.**

"Shit, shit! Dammit, dad, where are you when I need you?" Sherry thought aloud as she sprinted down the hall as fast as she could. She needed to get to Jean-Jacques, the man who worked with her as the most experienced hacker of the group of workers. She knew he could get her the information she was looking for.

Sherry took a right and avoided colliding with two other researchers by the skin of her teeth, ignoring the angry exclamations one of them threw at her. Finally, she reached her destination and burst inside the room, attracting the attention of everyone who was inside.

"Where's Jean-Jacques?" she asked, regaining her breath and composure. A tall black-haired man rose from his seat and gazed at her curiously.

"_Ici, ma cherie_," he said, his tone light. Sherry strode towards him, not caring about the curious whispering in indignation and uneasiness. Jean-Jacques cocked an eyebrow at Sherry, flashing a faint smirk at her. "What's wrong? _Je vous peux maintenant aider?_" Sherry couldn't help flashing a smirk of her own, but it was gone as soon as it came.

"In fact, you can, Jean-Jacques. I need you to get me information only TerraSave has got in their hands," she told him with a resolute nod. Jean-Jacques' expression didn't change, but Sherry noticed a smile tugging at his lips.

"Sounds _très difficile_," he teased, sarcastic. "Well, not anymore than the communications jam. And what is this information you are looking for, _mademoiselle?_"

"About Claire Redfield," Sherry breathed out in a rush, feeling hope making its way through her doubts and anxiety. Jean-Jacques immediately sat down in front of his computer and started typing Claire's name, coming up with dozens of results.

"She's Chris Redfield's sister, _n'est pas?_" he asked, gazing up at her. Simultaneously, he started up some programs to which Sherry had always been oblivious and worked fast, like it was meant to be. Jean-Jacques was a fast and experienced hacker, a person who Sherry had seen useful for her line of work; Rho Biological wasn't only a pharmaceutical company. It fit like the archetypical company, one that kept secrets up their sleeve -just like the disbanded Umbrella- but Sherry hadn't made that be out of some stupid reason or simple amusement.

"Still no way to fix the bug on communications and tracking?"

Jean-Jacques shrugged. "We managed to get some functions back to normal, but some are still a bit broken. We can keep working decently with the net, keep up with the enterprise's operations, records and such but not more. The rest of the servers for tracking and hacking are not fully repaired yet; Jacob and Zoe are still on it. The net is safe, no _problèmes_ there. Did you find the bastard that did it?"

"I didn't, but I know who it was, and I'll make sure he's dead whenever we cross ways again."

Biting on her thumbnail, Sherry waited for Jean-Jacques to finish his tasks, impatience threatening to keep the best of her. In that moment, she closed her eyes and remembered one of the many lessons she'd learnt from her father, who he had learnt it himself from Wesker: when there was something complex at hand, the situation always called for patience and a cool head. She hadn't seen her father applying that a lot to his research, but it was something to have in mind.

"_Ça y est!_ I found something, _cherie_; thank goodness this still works," Jean-Jacques said with glee, and Sherry snapped her eyes open to glance at the monitor. "Claire Redfield, thirty years old, current residence: Vancouver."

Sherry felt her heart sinking. _Vancouver? Dammit, she couldn't have picked a _better _place! There's no way we can get to her in time!_

Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice inside her head, one that made a smile tug at her lips.

"_Never desist, Sherry, remember that. Call it an obsession, but you can never desist from what you plan."_

Sherry sighed, shaking her head. Her father was right of course, but complexity was always in the way.

_I know; I know, dad, but it's always complicated. _

"Any means to establish contact?" Sherry inquired, crossing her arms, and Jean-Jacques looked up at her, once again cocking an eyebrow.

"Is that 'serious mode', _cherie_?" he asked in return, but then he was the one who got serious. "We got e-mail address, mobile phone and her residence's," Jean-Jacques then said, typing some more codes. Sherry fished out her own mobile phone from her pocket and dialled Claire's, praying to whoever was listening for her old time friend to pick up.

A ring. Nothing.

Three rings. Still nothing.

At the fourth, "Hello?"

For a moment Sherry's hopes spiked, but the voice wasn't Claire's, and Sherry froze in her place. She found Jean-Jacques staring at her, this time with concern etched across his young features, and Sherry widened her eyes. "Who the hell is this?" she asked, feeling her nerves getting out of control. One of her hands started shaking when a cold, dark laugh reached her ears.

_It can't be... How didn't I notice?!_

"_Miss Birkin... it's Marco Gionne, who else?_"

Sherry's blood ran cold. If Marco had picked up, then it meant Claire was...

"Where's Claire?" she blurted out in a rush, revealing her intentions unconsciously.

"_Sherry?! Sherry, is that you!_" she heard Claire say at the top of her voice. Unable to keep her cool, Sherry felt a lump in her throat: Claire sounded terrified, her hopes having bloomed again for a moment, but Sherry had still heard her scared and anxious.

"Claire?!"

"_Sherry, I'm-_"

Sherry suddenly heard the sound of something hard and big falling, and she understood what had happened. "What have you done to her?! Don't you lay a finger on her, you bastard!"

"_Don't worry, she's fine, she's just collapsed after a punch_," Marco said, his tone nonchalant.

"Where's David?" Sherry demanded, fearing the worst.

"_He's dead; Vithar killed him before he could help Miss Redfield get away. I know you've been keeping track of my activities through him, so why keep this under cover? Also, we got Claire Redfield, and we're going to use her at our leisure_."

"I'll get you for this, Marco!" Sherry spat, unable to control her voice. "Don't you think we're going to let this slide!"

Marco chuckled. "_Oh, actually you are. I'm going to pay you a visit soon; you'd better be ready for it._"

And then the line went dead, as simple as that. Sherry fell silent, speechless, and silence followed Marco's words, silence during which Sherry felt her hands shaking as anxiety got the best of her. She caught sight of Jean-Jacques staring at her wide-eyed, since she'd never shown herself to be so nervous and shocked, but she didn't mind him.

"Alright, I'm going to help her no matter what," she said at last, resolute. Still a bit struck by the call, she hung up herself and exhaled, leaving her mind blank. She felt helpless, unable to do anything, until a thought popped up in her mind.

_Come on: what would have William done? Keep going, of course._

Keeping her voice low, she said, "Give me the pat on the shoulder I need, please?" She knew who she was talking to, even though she knew he wouldn't reply to that nor he would do what she'd requested; still, she had to believe.

"Jean-Jacques, keep at this. Keep track of all the calls we receive; do not take off your eyes Marco and his activities, I want _everything_ on them. I'm going to get Claire back even if it kills me." With that, she stormed outside the room, pacing so quickly she almost broke into a run.

_I could've told Wesker I was going to forget about her, but that was just a lie. I never lost hope in her, and I'm going to see her again, get her out of danger and keep her safe. It's time I paid back the debt._

When she lifted her gaze, Sherry saw Chris, Jill and Wesker approaching her at a fast pace, and she couldn't help frowning even more. She would have to get ready for Chris' reaction, not to mention Wesker's. Jill was the first to speak.

"Is everything alright? Was somebody arguing?" she asked, her voice calm but alarmed.

"Nothing's alright, if you want me to be honest; I got bad news, and _bad_," Sherry replied, meeting Chris' gaze with hesitation. "It's about Claire: Marco's taken her."

Chris' expression changed from one of shock to anger and then to one with a mix of both, and Sherry felt tempted to look away and avoid having to stand his reaction; in spite of that, she didn't and kept firm. "How did that happen?" he asked, his voice surprisingly calm but still quivering a bit with anger.

"I don't know when, but he got there before we did."

"Before you did?" Wesker intervened. "You knew about this?"

"Okay, let's get things straight: I got a call from David on the 25th telling me that Marco was on her trail, and I sent him along with one of Marco's assassins to try and prevent it. It happens that a day ago, James had just gotten here from, as he had said, Colorado, since he had personal matters to take care of. David told me that he'd sneaked into your plane and did whatever he did, like telling Marco where you were so that he could send Freya there to kill you."

"James is still alive!" Jill exclaimed, glancing at Wesker. "Bastard! What a silly mistake coming from me..."

"When I received the news from David, I tried to track her down whilst at the same time take care of the facility in Africa before it shut down and you were trapped inside it. About that, we couldn't do anything, since we were still dealing with the bug," she explained, he voice alarmed and fearful. "Marco got wind of David's affiliation with us and killed him. He's got Claire now."

"Why didn't you tell us before?" Chris asked, raising his voice.

_That's the last straw!_

"Because there was no way of contacting you with a day-long communications jam, you dumbass! We were still trying to fix it when you got back! It was a race against Marco; he knew _everything_ we were doing and all because of James! Damn it, even Jean-Jacques had problems when trying to fix it!" she burst out, narrowing her gaze.

Chris shut his eyes tight and bit on his lip, exhaling. "So much for a return... No, not Claire, dammit!" Sherry looked away, feeling as awed and angry as he was. But then, the matter seemed to vanish from his mind: Chris' eyes snapped open and he eyed her suspiciously.

"Hold the phone..." Chris breathed out, frowning. "You said you were trying to keep the facility from shutting down but you couldn't anything about it, didn't you?"

"That's what I said, yeah," Sherry spoke with a nod, a knot of uneasiness settling in the pit of her stomach; she didn't like where this was heading.

"But there was a shut down too! It was overridden!"

"It wasn't you?" Wesker said, his brow shooting up ever so slightly. Sherry was out of words to say, since she had not expected his question. At last, she shook her head.

"N-No, it wasn't us. Don't tell me you managed to escape without the facility shutting down!"

"We wouldn't be here if that hadn't happened," said Jill, not rolling her eyes to Sherry's surprise. "The facility started to shut down for a few seconds but then it went back to normal. It obviously hadn't been us and there was no-one else in the building."

"Then if it wasn't us, who was it?" Sherry asked, her eyes widening. She stole a glance at Jill, then Wesker, then Chris and later Wesker again, partly in hopes that he would know the answer. Much to her dismay, he just shook his head. At last, it clicked, and Sherry came up with the answer herself. "Marco!"

"What?"

Sherry snapped her fingers; of course! "David told me that Marco was planning to shut the facility down himself. What if _he_ overrode the lockdown?"

"That's far-fetched, _too_ far-fetched, and you know it," spoke Wesker, shaking his head whilst not breaking eye contact, "but we know how he can act when it comes to his interests."

"You have to agree with me on this: it's our only lead so far, Wesker. We still have speculation as a resource, even though that doesn't seem likely," Sherry insisted, emphasizing her words with gestures of her hands.

"It could've been James, too," said Chris, meeting Sherry's gaze. "From what you told us, he's clearly an experienced hacker and if he got back here on the 24th, it's possible that he could've done that."

"Planting the bug and control the facility at the same time?" Jill piped up. "_That_ is unlikely, unless he wanted attention to be drawn upon himself."

"Which could work as a diversion," Chris posed, and Sherry was amazed at how fast he could think. Knowing that Progenitor, if bonded successfully with the host's DNA, could increase the host's intelligence, then with Uroboros -being a variant strain and a much more advanced and improved one-, Chris would have the right to claim the title of the smartest one in the whole group, if not the world.

_With the virus, it actually isn't fair, but who can blame him?_

"We can still settle with Marco, as reckless as it may seem," Jill said with a tinge of defeat in her voice. "Sherry, do you have any idea where James could be?" she then asked, and Sherry gave a half-hearted nod, hesitant.

"I have a slight idea. Between the 20th and the 25th, Marco moved from Naples to Vancouver; I knew about this thanks to David. His activities were becoming more intense in the States, so we believe that was his reason for the change. What I didn't know was that Claire lived there, not until barely five minutes ago. Marco has already gotten to her, which proves he clearly knew where she was; he overtook us. I don't know where they're taking her."

She caught sight of Jill looking at Chris, who looked like trying to digest Sherry's words with all his might, and a smile tugged at her lips. Sherry now knew there was something between them both, something _big_, and just with a mere examining gaze.

"Here's to hoping she's fine," he said at last. "I can't stand having to stay put and wait."

"Neither can I, that's for sure," Jill piped up, throwing a small hint of humour.

"Marco's a hectic person; he doesn't stop working and making plans," Sherry agreed, gazing up at him. "There's an upside to this; at least, if it can be considered that."

"And that upside is?" asked Wesker.

"Marco's exact words were: 'I'm going to pay you a visit soon; you'd better be ready for it_'_. I don't know why, but I have the feeling we'll just have to sit and wait for him to come. We have no locations, no traces, nothing, so we can't conduct a thorough search."

"What about David?" Jill intervened, and Sherry made an effort to swallow the lump in her throat.

"He's dead. He tried to get Claire out of there and Vithar got him," she replied, her voice going softer than she intended. "We can only wait now; impatience won't do anything." Sherry sighed. "I'm sorry, really."

"You did all you could," said Wesker, but Sherry was half-paying attention to his words: what had caught her attention have been the glance Chris had shot her. It hadn't been one of rage and resent directed towards her, but one that had the message of 'Don't worry'. She was aware Chris knew of her friendship with Claire. Sherry gave an unconscious nod and relaxed; at least, she knew her efforts weren't being spurned.

"There's something that's also bothering me about this," Jill suddenly intervened lowering her gaze, pensive. "This assassin, Freya as you said... did she make it out of the facility alive? Chris, do you know something about that?"

The man in question shook his head. "No. Seeing I almost killed her, she retreated. I don't know where she went after that; either she's still in Africa or she had means to escape."

"What, you couldn't dispose of her?" Wesker intervened, cocking an eyebrow with malice. "How kind of you."

"That you've been killing your whole life doesn't mean others can do it easily," Chris snapped, glaring at him. In that moment, Sherry thanked that gaze hadn't been directed at her.

_Damn, it's scary!_

"And you yourself haven't done that either, right?"

_That was a low blow_, and Sherry had to agree with her own mind. At Wesker's remark, Chris fell silent, but not for long.

"As if our circumstances were the same!" he said. "You can't compare you with us."

"Well, killing is a sin, no matter the victim is alive or not," Wesker replied, putting an end to the argument, "and you get my drift, don't you?" Chris scowled at him, his eyes ablaze with anger.

"Damn right I do."

"As if we all gave a damn about what's a sin or not!" Sherry finally spoke up, hoping that wouldn't get her into trouble. "Look, whatever we've done, it's done; some have their gift for killing, some don't, and it's that simple. I would recommend having that in mind."

Sherry knew Wesker would get that hint, and he seemed to get it. The tension subsided gradually, and she felt a bit prouder of herself: she could be the pacifist when she wanted to.

"In any case, you should get back to rest," she then said with a sigh, "and I'll keep an eye out on this. We'll make some progress, I'm sure of that."

"Are you fine with that?" Jill asked. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

Sherry shook her head. "You've done enough as it is, but thank you." She glanced at Wesker, who didn't seem very willing to leave; in fact, he proved it with his words.

"I'm staying; there's not much I have to do now and I've rested enough." Chris and Jill didn't have any objections, judging by their demeanour, and left seconds later after bidding goodbyes. The moment they were out of sight, Sherry took the liberty to sigh in relief and lean against the wall, catching sight of an amused Wesker.

"Poor girl," he said, sarcastic, and Sherry grimaced at him, standing on her feet again.

"Don't give me that; I felt like a mouse! And I thank whoever's listening that I managed to put a leash on both of you," she shot back. "This is taking a bit of a toll on me; you know this is hard, and better than anyone of us. And what I told you before, I swear it all happened like this; there was no way I could've noticed."

"At least we have a worthy opponent; finally a Gionne that breaks the monotony," Wesker remarked, starting a walk towards the computer room. Sherry followed suit, stifling a yawn. "You're not running solely on caffeine, are you, Sherry?"

"And why would that matter?" Sherry asked in return with a smile. "William did that too, so I don't see why I shouldn't and couldn't do it. Guess it's in my genes. Don't worry though," she then added, "I've gotten my sleep. But it's just that it's been so hectic lately, I've barely had the time to rest."

Indeed, she had been taking too much caffeine lately

"Tell me, were you able to fix the bug?" Wesker asked after a short silence.

"Jean-Jacques was able to keep up with the enterprise's operations and such, but no luck on hacking and tracking," she replied. "Some of the functions are still broken and there's not much we can do. Before, we could track Marco down, hack servers and get the information we needed; now, we're completely blind. It'll still take a while to get all systems running again; that's what I suppose."

They stepped inside the computer room, and Sherry was utterly shocked at the racket. Everyone was shouting hurried commands at each other, many experts were working quickly and in a hurry; as such, no-one seemed to notice their presence. Who indeed noticed them was Zoe, Jean-Jacques girlfriend and expert computer programmer. When she did, she went past her work post and strode towards them, brushing some rogue locks of red hair out of her face.

"This is something I didn't know of," Wesker said before Zoe was with them. Sherry only smirked, glancing up at him for a moment.

"Miss Birkin, everything's operational now!" Zoe said, handing her a written status report which called her attention. "The bug's completely gone! Jacob, Jean-Jacques and Adam managed to trace it and eliminate it!"

"That's excellent news, Zoe!" Sherry said in return, grateful. "It's good to know you're fast workers."

"I'm still trying to rearrange the systems like they were before so nothing is out of place," spoke Zoe with a nod. "Communications will take a bit more of time; Imogen is working on them. She's making progress though, so she expects it'll take her six more minutes, ten at best."

"Thank you," Sherry said, and Zoe withdrew to her work post again. "So you didn't really know about this?" she then asked Wesker, who shook his head as he took a look around.

"I didn't, no. How did you manage to get all of this built?"

Sherry smiled, exiting the room with Wesker following behind her. "Actually, I did it thanks to the funds you left me. Quite the action coming from a charitable soul," she teased, knowing full well what Wesker's reaction would be, which was a scoff and a glare. "Don't take me wrong; I'm just joking."

"It relieves me to see you put them to good use," he said, seemingly ignoring her last remark.

"I never got to thank you," she replied, smiling.

"I don't need that; I did what I had to do, and that was ensuring you carried on," Wesker said, dismissing her thanks. Sherry felt her mouth twitching into a smile, one that she couldn't keep at bay. What to do, tell him? Backstab him? She couldn't do that!

_Then again, I don't know how he would react. He knows about my friendship with Claire; everyone can change their mind about something... but not when it's your most hated enemy's sister._

"Up for some sightseeing, I see," Wesker commented, bringing her out of her thoughts. It took her a second to realize the reason behind the remark: they hadn't stopped walking, and she assumed he had let her take the lead. In the end, Sherry shook her head and said,

"No, not that; I just spaced out for a second. I was thinking... can I tell you something?" Sherry cursed how ginger her voice had come out: she had more courage than that!

"It's about Claire, isn't it?" Wesker guessed, having read her thoughts. "You didn't score with that lie, I tell you." Sherry was genuinely surprised.

"Wha-what lie?" she asked, a knot of uneasiness catching in her stomach when they stopped walking. Sherry held her breath as a reflex, feeling how Wesker's eyes bore a hole into her skull despite having them hidden. She was nervous, and _nervous_; it wasn't just uneasiness. It was then that it clicked.

XX

"_I was in good terms with her, that's the thing."_

"_Whatever made you change your mind?"_

"_I really don't know," she answered, shrugging. "I guess it must've been time."_

XX

"You mean that one?" she suddenly blurted out, not aware of the words that left her lips. Wesker said nothing and kept his mask of impassiveness on, which made Sherry think fast to get an excuse out. Justifying her friendship was no excuse, however, so she opted to tell him. "I didn't want to risk anything."

"If that's the case, then you should know where your loyalties lie, Sherry," he then told her, and Sherry couldn't take it anymore: she'd had enough.

"What are you trying to inculcate into me, huh?! That it's my obligation to leave all attachments aside? That I cannot allow myself to have someone I can rely on?" she exclaimed, gesturing with her arms. "Claire was in my life long before _you_, and it's because of her that I'm still alive and indirectly, you too. If you told me you were a man of your word, then you should understand what a debt means. I'm willing to pay mine back, whether you sit well with that or _not_!"

In that moment she realized what she'd said and soon regretted it. There was no turning back though, and all she had said was true: there were no lies in there. During the silence that ensued, Sherry could feel a shiver running down her spine, the hairs on her arms and nape standing on an end.

She couldn't take back her words; in fact, she didn't want to.

"Then fulfil it, but I suggest you do not allow yourself to be carried away," said Wesker at last, his tone harsh.

"So what if I _do_ get carried away? Talk about yourself!" Sherry said, shocked. "I would know better than to compare you with me, but I think you're getting on all too well with a certain person." Then, Wesker turned his gaze at her, but she was not frightened by his tense demeanour. "Yeah, you taught me too well to read body language and have a good look at people. But why would you care? You don't understand what it means to have someone to consider family," she shot back, holding back her anger. That was what would get her into trouble, but Wesker didn't have any problems replying to her remark.

"Says the one who didn't have one in the first place. And if that wasn't like that, then who was the little girl who told me she didn't want to know about her parents anymore?"

Sherry was momentarily struck by the harshness and the truth of the statement, and she scowled at him in response. "That was a low blow, Wesker."

"Oh, don't be like that," he said with a _tsk_. "You know I speak the truth, and that alone. If you were the first one to reject having a family when it was right in front of you, then why are you saying _I_ don't understand what it means? I, of all people, being blamed? You should be ashamed of yourself."

"You haughty bastard!" she cursed, wide-eyed. "So you really think you're superior than me, right? I should've left you to rot in that volcano; you're lucky to still be alive!"

"And I should've left you in the Agency's hands so that you could become a guinea pig for G and experience worse things than death itself. Satisfied?" Wesker said in return, his voice not faltering in the least; in fact, it sounded even deadlier. "Claire of course might've helped you, but who was the one who took you under his wing? Certainly not her, correct?" Sherry had to stifle the urge to swallow hard and a droplet of cold sweat went down her nape. "I'm finished here; will we stop wasting time?"

Sherry gaped at him, dumbstruck. How... how dare he? Wesker exchanged one last glance with her and headed back up the hall as she followed him with her gaze. She then turned around to face him and said,

"If it hadn't been for us, you wouldn't have known what it means to be human. Didn't my father mean anything to you?"

Wesker stopped, but did not face her. "I never allowed our friendship to get in my way, _never_, and I will do the same with ours."

Sherry swallowed this time, her heart clenching in anger and somehow, pity. "Then why did you befriend him in the first place? What was the purpose behind that bond? Since you claim to know a lot about loyalties and friendship, think about it."

Silence reigned, but none of them moved from their places.

"Sometimes, William even admitted having considered your friendship among a _certain_ matter, and too bad you didn't know; too bad you _still_ don't know," Sherry continued, keeping her voice from cracking. "Tell me, where did his loyalties lie then? His work or you?" She sighed. "Indeed, too bad you didn't get to know."

"What should I have known?" Wesker inquired, half-turning to face her.

_I'm not spilling everything out that easily._

"That, I'll keep it to myself," Sherry snapped. "You'll have to pry it out if you want to know." Wesker suddenly turned but before the conversation could go any further, she put an end to it by walking in the opposite direction as him, trying desperately to keep her head high as Wesker watched her leave.

Out of instinct, Sherry went to her office and locked herself in there, in need for a bit of calm. In the dark, she leaned on her desk and sighed, feeling how the lump in her throat was coaxing tears to spill. No matter what, she wouldn't spill them; at least, that's what she had planned at first. She was not impassive, emotionless; she had not banished empathy like Wesker had... and so, she could allow herself a few tears. Her mouth twitched into a smile as she cried.

_And stupidly enough, I'm smiling. What the hell is this?_

"Looks like the weight falls onto me, right dad?" she said out loud, voicing her thoughts. "Lies are inevitable in friendship, aren't they?"

XX

"_I can't believe I did it, Annette; I just... I can't accept it! Look where it has led us!"_

_Sherry couldn't keep herself from listening. Of course, she had been taught that eavesdropping wasn't polite; in fact, it was something that was rude to do. But now, hearing her father's voice sound like he was on the edge, despaired and near a nervous breakdown, she couldn't stop listening. She wanted to know what was the reason behind William's uneasiness, she wanted to _know_; simply, know. _

"_I lied... I lied to him, Annette, and both Wesker and me are going to pay the price."_

XX

"Would you have told him?" Sherry kept saying. "I heard the entire story, and it doesn't go away; it's a memory I can't get rid of. Every time I was with him, I understood what it was like to keep a lie as a secret amongst people you care for... but I want to tell him! He deserves to know, dad, especially when you went through what you went!"

XX

"_Sherry! What are you doing there?!" _

_An eleven old Sherry backed away from the looming figures of her parents and even though Annette sounded angry, Sherry couldn't pay attention to her: instead, she kept focused on William, who was staring at her in disbelief. Wordless, she kept on looking at him, ignoring her mother scolding her. At last, he said,_

"_So you know, right?" The girl examined her father, whose gaze was dark and almost despaired, but also had traces of determination. He had always been a man with many quirks, after all._

_Sherry nodded at last, being careful not to say anything that could make the situation worse. But it wasn't her who did, nor it was Annette, but William himself. _

"_You know how friendship is, right?" he said, crouching in front of Sherry. "It always has many lies, and this is one of that kind. I won't reveal the secret and if you somehow end up with him, you'll have to bear with the responsibility. If the time comes, tell him."_

_Sherry didn't understand the gravity of the situation she would put herself in, but nodded anyway. That was the only thing her father left as his legacy._

_A lie._

XX

"Damn, if only you were here... C'mon, some kind of clue! Just that! A hint, a sign, an answer through something or someone, but please, I need something!"

Unable to stay standing, Sherry lowered herself down to her knees. William's lie had been, in her opinion, what had tarnished their reputation and name, but there had been no choice but to keep it. Sherry knew that Wesker had already learnt about his past, but not her father's connection to it. She wanted to tell him about it, but there was no way of telling what Wesker would do to her in case the lie saw the light.

"There's... there's something I can also thank Wesker for..." she reasoned, drying her eyes and standing up. "Spencer, I hope you're rotting in Hell for all you did to us."

xx

Sherry lazily opened her eyes as she felt everything coming back to normal -that is, if there had been something out of place. It took her some moments to register that she was resting on her leather chair behind her desk, and how she had gotten there slipped her mind in those moments. Using her legs could be one option, since what didn't take her long to realize was that she'd been there all along. So as to not give herself a headache, Sherry stood up from the seat with a slow movement, her eyes getting used to the dark once more as she searched around for nothing in particular.

Closing her eyes then and pinching the bridge of her nose, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

"You didn't leave the door locked," Wesker said in the shadows, not stepping closer. Sherry felt around for the switch of the lamp on her desk, found it and allowed the room to be basked in the faint amber light of the lamp. Her gaze didn't take long to adjust to the light and she looked at Wesker, who was standing next to the door, arms folded across his chest.

"How long has it been since I disappeared?" asked Sherry, rubbing her eyes and shaking her head.

"Three hours." A short silence ensued, then, "Marco's here," he then told her, unruffled. Sherry closed her eyes again and sighed, for some stupid reason not giving the matter as much importance as she should. "We could handle him ourselves, but he's requested that you are present."

"Either way, I was going to be," said Sherry, shaking her head and looking at him. "I'm... I apologize for what happened before."

She wasn't surprised when he shook his head, but she was when he said, "We will have time for amends later. Come."

Did that meant there was no grudge? There was no way of knowing yet, but Sherry liked to believe so.

Without hesitating, remembering what she was there to do, Sherry fell in line behind Wesker and followed him out of the room, soon stepping past him as her resolution spiked to unbelievable levels. No matter what the circumstances, the handicaps, the failures, she would keep going; _no matter what_, she had always liked to say. She had not grown up as a determined person for simply nothing.

As she and Wesker neared the intersection of four halls, they noticed Chris and Jill standing with their backs to them and, on the opposite side, Marco, Vithar and Maria Greene. What caught Sherry's attention and set her nerves on fire was that David wasn't there; instead, he'd be above them or below them: it would be his choice. Thoughts of an atheist, of course, since she had never cared for God or gods to rule and meddle with her life.

"She finally decides to grace us with her presence," she heard Marco say thanks to the slight echo. Sherry frowned ever so slightly, remembering everything she had been taught to be and use in this kind of situations. Chris and Jill turned around, surprise and slight relief on her features, alarm and anxiety in his. Sherry paid attention to neither of them and stepped past the pair... alone, since she knew Wesker would stay in the sidelines; sometimes, he wasn't a man of much action. Moreover, this was her task and hers alone.

"I'm sorry for being so late, but I was thinking about how to make you get out of here with all the prices paid and no problems whatsoever," she replied, leaving her hands in her jeans' pockets and standing slightly on profile. "Where is she?" she then asked, her tone more harsh.

Marco flashed her a smile, his grey eyes gleaming with amusement behind his glasses. "Straight to the point, eh? She's at six."

"Then stand aside and let me see her. I'm more quick-witted than you think," Sherry demanded, adding that last remark with a snarky tone.

"Well, I kept my part of the bargain, and now it's time I request you keep yours."

"The bargain was one-sided, if I'm not mistaken," she intervened quickly, a knot of trepidation clenching in her stomach. Marco shook his head, stepping aside.

"That's what you thought, if I'm not mistaken," he said as a jester. Suddenly, his tone changed; Sherry had never heard him speak like that before, not without that singsong voice of his. "You will keep your part of the bargain, whether you like it or not and in fact, whether you know about it or not. Eventually though, not now. Well then, let me move aside, and I hope you enjoy the sight."

It all seemed to go in slow motion then: Marco stepped aside and Claire was in view. Sherry couldn't stifle the gasp that escaped her lips, staring wide-eyed at her long-time friend. Vithar was holding her unconscious with a long knife at her neck which had already grazed her skin, drawing blood from the wound as he slid it down her skin slowly. She seemed weak and thrashed, like she'd been beaten up... and the smears of blood at her lips and chin, Sherry knew, were only the beginning of it.

"Vithar, please," Marco said, and the boy took the knife away, seemingly admiring the blood with undying interest. Marco fixed his gaze not upon Sherry, but upon Chris, and addressed him. "Through you, no matter directly or indirectly, I lost a sister, _my only_ sister. Since you also have one and have never seen her like this, I thought this could be the first time. You'd better be grateful that I didn't kill her like you did with mine, although that's not entirely your fault, is it?"

"I'm surprised you say that, Marco, because you can't believe how explicitly Excella confessed her hatred towards you," Wesker intervened, faking sympathy. Marco's eyes widened: Wesker had hit quite the painful nerve.

"You're lying. I don't believe you at all!" he shot back, tinges of anger in his tone. "I will believe what I want, before you come up with a fitting remark."

"Please, do so." Sherry glared at him, her eyes narrowed, and Marco imitated her gesture, his lip curving up in derision. "I have some questions myself, Marco," Sherry then intervened before she forgot. "About your plans. You've been twisting everything on your favor. And now, it's time you tell us why you went to these lengths to get whatever you were looking for."

"Oh, you mean everything? Every last single detail?" Marco questioned, rhetorical. "I guess it won't hurt to tell you since everything has been carried out now. What is it that you want to know?"

"David said that all would go as he had told me unless you made a change of plans. What's that change of plans?"

"There's been a change of plans in everything, Sherry: every single word of mine was a lie. Not exactly a lie per se, but I carried out my plans in a very different way. I didn't want to kill your partners over there, no; it would've senseless," Marco explained, not smiling.

"Then it _was_ you who shut the facility down!" exclaimed Sherry, staring at him wide-eyed.

"It was me, yes, even though I told David I'd do otherwise," said the Gionne, pushing up his glasses. "In fact, I knew you both were in cahoots; I just never said it out loud. I wanted to keep the game going as it was and... cheat in the sidelines. Up until now, I've done all I've done because of one person and him only."

"That's why you wanted me, right?" asked Chris from behind, his tone between defiant and hesitant. Sherry turned around to look at him and found Chris taking some steps forward. "This was just a goddamned test to see how I turned out to be?!"

"It was. At first though, I had planned using your sister for what I had in mind. Then, I got the chance to keep track of you," said Marco, seemingly calm, but Sherry could tell he was starting to get unnerved with just a glance. "Claire turned out to be of no use afterwards."

"And I beat her up for fun!" Vithar piped up, the boy's sapphire eyes gleaming with malice as a devilish grin spread across his features. "Freya wasn't with me, and I don't know where... where she is yet, but I... I had fun with your sis. Although... although unconscious, she kept twitching every time I hit her."

"Shut up!!" Chris bellowed.

It was then when Vithar's face changed into a mask of horror, a loud gasp escaping his pale lips. The same happened with Maria, who stared behind Sherry with her eyes wide.

"_Nu vă fie teamă, _Vithar," Marco said, his voice soft but authoritative. Sherry swivelled around and saw the reason behind Vithar's sudden change in demeanour: Chris' eyes colour had changed; now, instead of golden, they were slowly turning red. Sherry knew it was only a matter of time till the worst happened.

"_Dar-dar maestru, el este-!_" Vithar started to protest, but Marco interrupted him with a snap of his fingers.

"Don't take me as a pacifist, but I think it's time we leave."

"Just like that?" Sherry asked, frowning at him. Marco nodded, silent.

"I have no more business with you here, at least not until further notice," he replied, dropping a hint Sherry caught in the moment. He then stepped back, yanked with strength at Claire's collar and threw her unconscious form in Sherry's direction. Claire landed at her feet and Sherry knelt beside her, holding her in her arms as Chris approached and also knelt down next to them.

"You're free to take Claire; I've used this few minutes quite well. This wasn't going to end up playing entirely on your favour, that's for certain."

"We'll be ready for whatever business we have to do in the future."

As Marco turned around, he shared one last gaze with Sherry, one that made her understand what was going through the man's mind. She didn't pity him, but she was well aware of how he was feeling. Vithar and Greene soon followed behind him, but Vithar didn't leave before saying,

"I killed David myself."

"Vithar, we're done here. Save those things for another moment," said the Gionne without stopping or even turning around. Vithar flashed one last grin at Sherry before falling in line behind Marco, and she turned her attention to Claire. Cuts and bruises were present on her features, smears of blood everywhere, and the gash at her neck didn't stop bleeding. Sherry was hypnotized somehow by the sight of the blood: she had seen it many times in her life, and almost rivers of it if she thought back to Raccoon City, but those smears across her friend's face were simply a horrible sight. Sherry felt for a pulse and sighed in relief.

"Thankfully, she's just unconscious, but she hasn't got a very stable beating. We should tend to her right now," she said, assessing Claire's state quickly. After a few seconds of silence, Chris nodded and lifted Claire up in his arms, holding her close against his chest, and at last said,

"You take care of her for now; scares aren't good right after waking up."

He didn't smile whilst saying that. Sherry could see raw emotion in his eyes: sorrow, pain, grief, relief, awe and trepidation, all mixed into one. Chris turned around and started walking towards their companions while she didn't move for a few seconds; then, she accompanied him. Whilst he exchanged some words with Jill, Sherry kept her gaze upon his, examining it, partly admiring and partly fearing the darkness in his eyes. She knew how he was feeling.

Sherry knew his heart had sunk.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, we're all getting the bad vibes here. You'll see what happens in the next one: will Chris and Claire have their reunion or will it just be cold-hearted on his side? And what's up with Marco, not wanting to do business yet? Chris will get the idea why, so you shall see too._


	21. Chapter XXI: Downfall

**Author's Note:** Finally another update! With psychological stress, apathy and a bit of Writer's Block, it's been impossible. I've back on my groove now, though we won't be having another update till next week or further; I'm in my last moments of schools and exams need to be passed xD In this chapter, we're going to see what's REALLY happening to Chris and how much the virus is influencing his mind state. Watch out for the next one, because things are getting precarious.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters.**

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* * *

**XXI

Downfall

_**Sometimes don't deny that everything is wrong**_  
_**Sometimes I'd rather die than to admit it's my fault  
Sometimes when you cry, I just don't care at all  
****I don't know why I do the things I do to you but… **_

"_Don't worry, she's going to be fine," Sherry assured, the ghost of a smile across her pale face. "Her wounds shouldn't take long to heal, but it's going to be her shoulder which is going to take the most time to do it fully. Nevertheless, there's no head trauma or anything worse than what she's already sustained, so we shouldn't be too worried."_

_Chris didn't trust it. Who knew what those bastards had done to her? At least, they hadn't killed her, but her state was miserable, the worst he'd seen her in so far. Out of instinct, he asked Sherry,_

"_Will you help her?"_

"_She saved my life, you know that. The only fair thing is that I repay my debt," Sherry said, nodding as she locked gazes with him. Chris saw sincerity in her hues, but that still didn't console him. With nothing else to say, he stood up and left the room, trying to clear his mind before his thoughts got into a much worse mess._

xx_  
_

If there was a moment when Chris was truly getting scared and wasn't showing it, it was now.

An hour had gone by since Marco's 'visit', an hour since he'd gotten his sister back and she'd been saved from a sure death, an hour since trepidation had decided to become his only companion. As he stared at his sister's calm figure upon the bed, he clenched his fist out of reflex.

Who were his only material companions were darkness and Claire, who was resting in one of the many rooms she had been left to rest after the surgery. As Sherry had said, the beating had left her with some broken bones, contusions and bruises, and many of those fractures had gone to worse: fragments of bone had punctured some blood vessels and some had been close to sticking out of the flesh, mostly in her shoulders. A beating? That had been torture, no other word to use.

Jill had tried to comfort him as much as she could and as much as he allowed her to, because Chris knew that many times, words were not necessary or even made things worse. Of course, he appreciated her attempts, but there had been something about them that didn't give Chris the good vibes. He knew Jill meant it, that when she'd said she'd be with him she meant it, but the tone of her voice had been what had confused and unsettled Chris: it was softer and almost half-hearted, as if something was also bothering her, something where Claire wasn't concerned. It was something else, and Chris had no other option than try and pry it out, see if it was something with which he could help.

At the same time, he'd been worried about Claire. How would she take his current state? Redfields could be understanding and accept things quickly, but all behind a reasonable limit, and Chris' state was beyond the reasonable. He could've joked with Jill about it the first time they talked about the subject, but that had only been in vain: his enthusiasm had been overcome by trepidation and uneasiness. Also, Redfields had a good ability to forgive (not forget though, and also behind a reasonable limit), but that wasn't much of a consolation to Chris: no matter what, Claire would see him as someone else, some_thing _else he didn't want to think about.

In the darkness before him, Claire grunted and tossed, giving signs of consciousness. It was at that time that Chris' gut clenched in awe and hesitation, a sudden impulse to spring to his feet and start running forcing him to do the first thing of the two. In concern, he watched her lids flicker and finally, she came to herself. She looked paler than usual, but to his fortune and hers, she didn't seem too beat up or weak. When Chris caught glimpse of her eyes, he saw the lively gleam in them once more making its return to her sky hues. He couldn't help a faint and sad smile: it had been so long since he had seen her again that he wanted to embrace her, to talk and laugh with her once more like they did before, but that wouldn't be possible unless things took a turn for the best, even if it was the smallest of turns. Not even if he desired to do so, Chris couldn't even smile with might.

After getting her bearings, Claire felt for the light switch, still a bit stunned. Chris couldn't allow her to see him, not yet.

"Don't do that," he said before stopping himself. He noticed his voice was much lower, different, so that would give him the advantage whilst being in the dark. Claire gasped, startled, and looked around, clearly unable to discern any figures in the pitch-black darkness.

"Who's there?" she spoke into the dark, her voice one of alarm. Chris remained silent for a moment before asking,

"Can't even recognize my voice, sis?"

Claire's gasp was the loudest one he'd ever heard, and he couldn't blame her.

_**You can't help it, you can't do anything against it: you're not her BROTHER anymore, and she will tell you.**_

Again that voice in his head, that voice that had become his inner companion, the voice that offered little consolation but made him plunge even more into the reality he was living in, making everything settle inside his mind like someone setting down the pieces of a puzzle. Every time it spoke, it put a special emphasis in some words, words that were known and unknown to him and would soon be unknown and known. With each experience, each word would acquire a new meaning, each word would be replaced by another one, until words that were so familiar to him were nothing more than _alien_ to him, strange, unheard of, non-existent.

Walking at a deliberately slow pace towards the light switch next to the door, Chris took a short, quick breath and flicked on the light, being careful enough to cover his eyes first to avoid being left blind. Once he lowered his arm, Chris and Claire were face to face, staring into each other's eyes as if time wasn't a problem for both of them. To break the silence and, metaphorically, the ice, Chris decided to speak first.

"Claire?"

She didn't seem to be listening, only kept staring at him as her eyes mirrored the immense disbelief and horror that she felt, no doubt about it. He knew what she was staring at, and how he wished he could've avoided that. Claire kicked off the sheets and stood up, not paying attention to her bandages or the pain Chris suspected she was sensing, and approached him with small, hesitant steps. He couldn't take it anymore: feeling a mix between shame and anger, he turned his face away from her, breaking and avoiding eye contact at all costs. His mind was making up horrible worst-case scenarios that were more and more plausible every second that passed, every moment he felt Claire getting closer, every breath he took.

In the end, nothing happened.

A hand cupped his cheek, but Chris was still unmoving, his chest heavy with anguish and despair, but Claire didn't say anything. Instead, she forced him to look at her and once again, Chris met Claire's intense, concerned gaze, all in a dreadful, heavy silence. He felt scared, childishly scared, but he couldn't help it.

"What have they done to you?" Claire asked at last, her voice quivering. As he swallowed, Chris even felt his own saliva finding troubles to go past the lump in his throat; Claire's voice tone was heart-clenching, like the song of an unstrung violin. There were so many things he wanted to say, but now not even his brain would coax him into talking; he had lost all words to use. He was mute, and he wished to be deaf.

Claire bit her lip as tears streaked down her cheeks, not looking away from his gaze and tilting his head down as if searching for something that told her what she was seeing wasn't true, that it was all an illusion; oh how Chris wanted to tell her that it was all real, whether in delirium or not.

"God, what have they done to you?"

Finally finding energy to speak, Chris uttered,

"You know what I've been turned into. What am I to you now? Why would you ask that? Why care?" Those questions had been unconscious, unaccounted for, questions that had been formulated by some dormant part in his mind that had awakened, one that was darker than the deepest corner of his heart. He didn't know how Claire would answer them, not even if she would, and the silence made his conviction grow stronger: she had no words to say about it. Negative thoughts were impossible to keep at bay, and Chris didn't fight them; it was meaningless.

_**Ask her, come on! There's no harm in knowing she won't consider you her BROTHER anymore, is there? **_

_I already know it; I just don't want to hear it be confirmed. Even though I want to ignore it, there's no way of turning reality back, no way of turning it into a mere illusion, and I can guarantee I'm the first one who wants that to happen._

_**Finally, my INSANE objective is being achieved, eh?**_

"Because I'm not looking at the one who has these eyes," Claire said, and Chris caught every single word of the sentence, "but because I'm looking into my brother's blue eyes, even if I'm just imagining it. Because he's still there, because you _still are_ my brother. And since when am I so understanding? Since when do I state things without asking for information first? Because there will be time for that. Right now, I just... I just want to spend some time with you, even if it's merely for a second, a millisecond, no matter what. You're-you're back, Chris, and I couldn't care less about the rest for now."

What left Chris in almost shock was the strength with which Claire embraced him, even if she was using a single arm, and held him close, not willing to let him go again, as if he were to vanish into thin air. Either Chris was already confused or he was feeling strange, because he never thought a gesture of affection like that one would get to his heartstrings. Never in his life he would accept her embrace like he did then, because he knew that was the most sorrowful of them all, and oh how he wished to sweep that sorrow away. There was nothing he could do now, just remain silent and surround Claire with his arms as her shoulders convulsed into soft cries.

"You-you were gone... and now you're here again, you're-" she managed to say, but Chris couldn't help it: he interrupted her with words that he was sure she did not wish to hear from him.

"Not someone you remember," he spoke, his voice barely a whisper, and Claire looked up at him, eyes bleary and cheeks humid. Chris met her gaze, taking in how it was ablaze with something close to indignation and rage, all mixed with sorrow and relief. He also took in her scent: rage was all that could be sensed, indignation too, just like it happened with her gaze.

"Don't look at me like that," Chris said, his tone of reproach, "because you know I'm speaking the truth. I might be alive, but it seems I'm alive to be what I'm not. I'm not the brother you remember me to be; I'm changing, and only time will tell how long it'll take you to realize that."

"So you're just pushing me away now? Is that what you want?" Claire snapped, scowling at him as she backed away. "I knew you were always stubborn, but this is just ridiculous. So here I am, I've been worried sick about you, and now you're telling me you're not Chris? I mean, c'mon, what is this? Split personality?"

"Claire, thanks to what I am now, I felt tempted to _kill_ Jill, and if you keep this up, I might even start feeling like doing so with you," Chris replied, raising his voice. "Take it as you want, but I'm serious. The virus is doing horrible things to me and I already told Jill, so I'm going to tell you this time: at this rate, I might as well go insane!"

"What are you saying?" Claire asked in disbelief, her eyes wide. "Do you really believe that? Chris, you-"

"So you're my sister and you don't even know half about me, eh?" Chris asked, sardonic. "Claire, it's happened twice: I've felt like killing people, and it's a feeling so strong that I can barely stop myself. I haven't killed anyone yet, but I'll do so eventually, I know that. Do you think hearing voices in my head was in my expectations?"

Claire's face was a mask of shock, whilst Chris could feel himself smirking, glad he had taken that weight off his chest. Jill didn't know yet, even though he'd told her most of what he had to say before, but it was a lot different with Claire. It was time she knew, it was time he stopped wondering if she'd accept him again or not: if he didn't tell her about this, he would never know, not truly. Claire would remain ignorant to his state, until one day that decision would prove to be a mistake.

"What were you infected with?" Claire inquired, taking a couple of steps forward, her eyebrows meeting in concern. Chris seemed to snap out of whatever alternate reality he was in, because everything felt more real than it was before. He was unable to understand the why of his actions, the why of his behaviour and words, but it had all seemed to go away. Calm once more, Chris sighed and leaned against the wall.

"It was almost a month ago. Jill and I were called in on a mission to stop a clandestine deal concerning Uroboros. You heard about it, didn't you?"

Claire nodded. "Yeah, I heard about the virus in some TerraSave meetings."

"Well," Chris continued, "the thing is we were betrayed again, like Wesker did with us. The backstabbers killed the innocent teammates and, in a moment of absentmindedness, I was pulled into an armlock and I was injected with the virus. Jill managed to get me back, but I was technically dead for two weeks at least. Then, guess who helped Jill bring me back to consciousness?"

Claire put two and two together in less than a second. "He's still alive?" she asked, her voice a whisper of disbelief and shock. Chris, to his chagrin, nodded, and Claire's eyebrows shot up. "But that's impossible! You killed him, didn't you? You-you yourself told me!"

"Well, that's what I wanted to believe until I saw him again, and it was then when the thought and the hopes were shattered to miserable pieces. He was brought back after the incident and since then, he's been around. To my surprise, he did do something that helped me recover, but we still can't look at each other without being at the other's throat, whether it is physically or verbally, no matter. That's... one of the factors that's affecting me; it's not just the side-effects, Claire."

Chris noticed how the rage had disappeared from his sister's eyes and had been replaced by concern and pity, and Claire was looking at him in awe. She lowered her head and said, "I'm sorry, about everything: about that, about what just happened now, about-"

"Do you have that much to be sorry for?" Chris half-teased, half-scolded. "Things happen, and it's taken me a lot of time to accept that. You've seen more than anyone has; I can't keep things from you. I wouldn't forgive myself if I hurt you, and it's so difficult to tell you... Claire, I didn't even know if I'd be able to do this, if I'd consider myself still worthy enough to look at you once more; I was scared to death. We can be both understanding, but all behind a reasonable limit."

_**Aww, getting emotional now? The PAIN doesn't go away though, does it?**_

"I can't believe you thought that," Claire said, her voice thin. "You're the only family I have left; why would I push you away now?"

_I didn't take things for granted._

_**That might be, but just you wait. It'll get REVERSED.**_

In the end, Chris could do nothing but give a light smile. As if on cue, Claire pulled herself next to him, this time a bit more slowly and with more care, more warmth coming from her. He enveloped her with his arms, celebrating his victory, giving himself pats in the shoulder: even though the voice in his head could be right, he had won the battle this time and he'd won it by himself. Like it seemed, he still had some rationality left.

"I have good news too, Claire," he told her, gazing down at her bright eyes. Suddenly, he felt everything changing, like the bond between him and her was still strong, even stronger than before. Claire cocked an eyebrow, smirking.

"So you were saving them now, huh? Spit it out," she snapped, her tone playful, and Chris ruffled her long fringe. It reminded him of earlier times, times that hadn't been lost with the passing of years, and Claire seemed to think the same as him.

"Aside from that I still think you tough," Chris started, teasing, "I have someone I'd like you to see. An old time friend, so it's said. Come with me."

With that, the siblings left the room and Chris headed towards Sherry's office, not letting the surprise slip from his mouth. Along the way, they didn't find her but Jill, who stared at Claire for a few seconds before nearing them and greeting the younger Redfield with a warm embrace. Chris knew Claire, since the time she'd met Jill a few years ago, had considered her like another sister. Though they had had their disputes and arguments sometimes, they still got along well, and Chris was still in the middle to make matters... better?

"It's good to see you're doing fine, Claire," Jill said, smiling widely. Even though the moment was supposed to be a good one, once Chris caught sight of Jill, his suspicions had risen again. This time, he took a long and silent moment to examine her while she and Claire talked, trying hard not to make any gestures that gave away his thoughts.

_I'm getting paranoid..._

_**No, you're not. Take a better look at your lover. **_

For some reason, Chris found no other way to find out more than listening to himself (if that was the case), and the scent he then recognized set his nerves on fire, making a burst of adrenaline set all his senses to their maximum. It was _his _scent, Wesker's; he would recognize it anywhere. To make matters worse, Jill reeked of it, more than any other time. All of a sudden, Chris felt like a predator examining its prey... because Jill would soon be his, the prey of his questions. There was no escaping it now; he'd know what was going on.

"You're taking her to see _her_?" Jill asked Chris, at last snapping him out of his thoughts. There was no transition between absentmindedness and awareness; it was instant.

Chris nodded, forcing a smile as Claire looked from one to another.

"Yeah, it's time she knew who we're talking about," he replied, "and she'll like it. Jill, think I can talk to you later?"

Jill's reaction was expected. Despite she was very good at hiding when she had been surprised, this time it hadn't gone unnoticed; at least, not unnoticed for Chris. He also kept calm but, inside, he was telling himself not to snap at her, to keep a cool demeanour, to not tell her about it now. No matter how much she wanted to hide it, Jill had a secret she was keeping from him, a secret involving Wesker, to make matters worse. Chris would find out about that and not just for Jill's sake, but for his own.

_**Getting a bit egoistical, huh? That's good, GREED is never bad once in a while.**_

_If that bastard has got something to do with her, he's not getting out of this alive._

"Okay, sure," Jill said at last. Chris could sense her hesitation; it was like her perfume. It was unnoticed to the naked eye, but not if one had Chris' senses. In the end, not wanting to stir up more tension, Chris nodded and left with Claire following close. For a moment, he couldn't discern which emotion had seized hold of him: either it was rage, either it was alarm or distrust, but it felt odd.

"Chris?" Claire called, and he stopped to look at her. Again, that intense concern was present in her eyes, and she was also still a bit fearful; of that, there was no doubt. "Is there something wrong?"

"I'm just thinking, that's all," Chris replied, shaking his head and giving her a reassuring nod. He hoped it had worked; Claire could read him like an open book. It indeed worked: Claire didn't push any further. "Come on."

"This should have been connected here," said a voice in front of them. Chris noticed it was Sherry, with her back to them, talking with someone else, and knew Claire was already getting curious. "Well, fine, can you fix it?" The person who was with Sherry nodded and turned, entering the room to their right.

"Sherry, there's someone here to see you," Chris called, and Claire turned her gaze at him, then to the blonde in front of them. Sherry turned around, and both his sister and the Birkin remained staring at each other, wide-eyed and shocked. The meeting unfolded like Chris had expected but he did not stay to watch.

He had someone else to meet.

xx

"Sh-Sherry?" Claire stammered, feeling how a smile spread across her features. She knew Sherry was still alive, but seeing her in person was much better than having heard her voice through the phone. She hadn't expected she would be there, and it appeared her long-time friend thought the same. Claire saw Sherry like the girl she had met in Raccoon City and she knew she still was, strong and kind, but there was apparently someone else standing in front of her.

"Oh God, Claire!" Sherry exclaimed at last, approaching her with a beaming smile. Without hesitation, Claire pulled her into a strong embrace and felt Sherry's to be the strongest. "Oh, it's so good to see you're okay!" she said, her voice full of joy, but then Sherry withdrew, her face one of alarm. "Damn, I forgot about the bandages! Sorry, sorry!"

Claire couldn't stifle a laugh. "It's fine, don't worry," she replied, dismissing her apologies. Sherry seemed to calm down, smiling once again.

Claire took a look at her friend, examining her with care. She had only had a glimpse at her father, that fateful day in Raccoon, and another one at the photograph Sherry had shown her before parting ways, and she could tell Sherry bore some resemblance to him, especially in her eyes and hairstyle. Her gaze, still that lively blue, had her parents' gleam in it; when Claire thought about Annette, Sherry could've been mistaken for her if someone had just seen their gazes. There was something else that had surprised Claire: Sherry hadn't let her hair grow. Instead, it was short, even shorter than Annette's the last time she had seen her, and what gave her some resemblance to William were the long bangs falling upon her forehead: like father, like son.

_Or more daughter, in this case._

"I'm glad to see you're fine; I just missed you so much," Sherry said, and by the smile she flashed at her, Claire had a small flashback to when she, Leon and Sherry had escaped the laboratory and Claire had witnessed the young girl cry, having been there as her shoulder to lean on.

It felt odd to see her smile, since Sherry herself had said that her life hadn't been too full of happiness, but it also made Claire be at ease: times changed, and so did people.

"I've been wondering where you were all this time. We didn't keep in touch after Raccoon City," replied Claire, making slight emphasis on the name, and Sherry shrugged, sighing.

"Things changed, and so did I, as you can see."

"Mind telling me what happened?" Claire asked, keeping a tinge of humour in her voice. Even though she was old enough to had let everything go, Claire was also hesitant to touch the subject, and someone as young as Sherry could still be sensitive to it. In spite of that assumption, Sherry nodded and started walking in the opposite direction. Claire followed as she talked.

"You might not like it but since you asked, I have no choice but to tell."

"If there's something you don't want to say, I understand," Claire hurried to add, raising her hands in defense. Sherry chuckled.

"What I don't want to say is the most important thing, so it has to be said," Sherry replied, shrugging once more. "After Leon left me to be taken care of by the government, I was 'rescued' by an old... family friend, if I can say that, who took me in under his care. His reasons why are still unknown to me."

Claire couldn't help frowning.

_I think I know who that family friend is. Wesker, you'd better have not done anything to her._

"Since I wanted to pursue the same career as my family," Sherry continued, unaware of Claire's thoughts, "I learnt from him and learnt on my own. I was sent to Harvard University six years ago and here I am, CEO of my own pharmaceutical company. Don't worry, we're not planning anything like Tricell or Umbrella; we're an honest company, though we've been keeping a close eye on Tricell all this time."

"Looks like there wasn't much trouble in your life, was it?" Claire inquired, good-natured.

"Not much, unless you consider spending days alone trouble," Sherry replied, smiling. "You know I'm used to being alone, so studying and living on my own wasn't much of a problem. Though I received sporadic visits from him, I carried on."

Claire measured her next words with a teaspoon, afraid she'd mess up. "Was that 'him'... Wesker?"

Sherry didn't reply immediately but nodded at last, crestfallen. "It was him, yes. Think I've turned evil?" she teased with an undertone Claire couldn't interpret the right way. Sherry smirked. "Nothing like that has happened, you can be at ease. I'm still myself, even though he was a major influence in my life. I still have a debt to pay."

"It kinda shocks me to know that, and I'm sure you know why," Claire remarked, lowering her head and frowning.

"I knew it would. Makes you wonder how someone like him could take someone like me under his wing and kept me alive without harming me, right?" Sherry asked, nodding in understanding. "We're at my office now, come on."

Claire followed Sherry inside the room she gestured at her to enter in, and Claire found herself in a medium-sized study, lightened up only by small lamps that Sherry soon flicked on. The right wall was naked save for some shelves with books and some charms hanging from one of the ends of a shelf. To the left, there were numerous bookcases filled to the top with large volumes and other kind of books, and Claire wondered if Sherry had read them all or they were just there for fun. In front of her there was a desk, with a reading light, many folders and files piled up in one corner and some other sheets of paper scattered across the surface of the desk. Someone was busy, eh?

"This is like my own personal world when I lock myself up in here," Sherry said, breaking the silence. "It's the safest in the complex, at least for me." Claire kept silent, still frowning. "Claire, don't ask me to explain why because I can't. I know that it's left you upset and uneasy, but we both have different points of view."

"I know that," Claire shot back, "and I'm trying to get myself into your shoes, but I find it impossible. Not when Wesker has done so much to us, to everyone. What if he's just using you? All would've been a mistake if that were the case."

"I would've known that a long time ago, I can assure you," Sherry said, not snappy. "I haven't been with him much, but I see him in a different light. You can't ask me to be in your place because I can't be in it. Whilst I've suffered my own tragedies, and you have too, mine weren't caused by him and not by my father either. You can't always have a black and white vision of the world forever."

"And that was something Wesker taught you, right?" Claire inquired, looking straight at her. To her surprise, Sherry shook her head.

"No, it was something I learnt by myself," she admitted. "Imagine remaining resentful towards your family your whole life even though you know the reasons about why to be. I had to realize that a long time ago. I understand why you say that though, since you don't know what I know, after all."

"What's that?"

"Something my father left me to carry, a burden I can just tell _him_, only him," Sherry replied, not opening the book. Claire was starting to feel frustrated: if Sherry had said she couldn't have a black and white vision forever, then why was she hiding what could possibly make her understand? "I'm sorry if it frustrates you, but that's how things are."

Claire looked away, scowling. Sherry had evolved so differently to how she expected over the years, but that wasn't surprising, not when she had spent almost her whole life with Wesker. There was no room for expectations now, but there was no avoiding feeling uneasy and inevitably frustrated. Now she knew why Chris had been so affected; one way or the other, it would affect them both, that wasn't something strange.

"Who brought him back?" Claire asked after a long, uncomfortable silence. The air grew heavier with tension when Sherry kept silent. "Sherry, who did that? I have to know."

"Thing is if you _want_, not if you have to," Sherry said, avoiding the question. Claire lifted her eyes at Sherry, locking gazes with her, and saw serenity and conviction in her hues. Conviction? Why? "Chris already knows, and you must've seen by now that he hasn't taken it too well."

"Who brought him back and _why, _then?" Claire repeated, rephrasing the question with a sharp undertone.

"I did."

Claire's heart sunk to her boots. In disbelief, she stared at Sherry, wide-eyed, and felt without enough strength to keep standing. Sherry wasn't fazed by her reaction and kept serious, determined, confident in her answer.

"I... I can't believe it. You... you did that?" Claire exclaimed, anger taking hold of her. Now she knew why her brother's efforts had been in vain! "Why? Why did you do it? Was it compassion? Obligation?"

"A debt I had to repay. And besides, he's not the kind of person you think he is," replied the Birkin, and Claire was inevitably reminded of her own words at Rockfort.

"_My brother's not the kind of person you think he is!"_

Narrowing her eyes, she stared at Sherry, and said, "And you really think he's changed, don't you?" When she asked the question, Claire saw Sherry clenching her fists, her jaw setting. "Do you really think that just because you saved him, he's changed?" Claire kept her voice steady, and saw her companion becoming angrier by the second.

"Why do you always think you know people just by how they act with you?" she exclaimed, enraged, and Claire was surprised to see how much her voice had quivered there: was she really being serious? "If it hadn't been for him, I would've already turned into a guinea pig, an experiment, a weapon! That's all the world wants to use these things for!"

"And what about him, huh?" Claire shot back, sweeping the air in front of her with her arm. "What about all he planned to do? What about the plans Chris stopped him from carrying out? Wasn't he just like the world in itself?"

Where was that argument going? Claire had just met up with Sherry and they were arguing already? But there was no reason to leave the past aside, especially not after all those years without hearing from each other. Claire knew about how close Wesker and the Birkins had been; was it all because of an obligation? Or was it really because of personal matters, feelings? Had Sherry adopted Wesker's mindset out of obligation or out of her own choice?

"At least he was going to do it for a good cause! Call me naïve if you want, but what about all of this? All this you call our home? It's being destroyed, slowly but surely, and I'm sure it'd be better off with some people that shouldn't have been in it!" Sherry exclaimed, her eyes narrowing. "I know why he was going to do it, I know his reasons! And I know it wasn't out of selfishness or self-righteousness because, like it or not, we _all _are self-righteous in our way. We've all known pain too, but his has been greater than any other person's. 'Don't do onto others what they haven't done onto you', so it goes, but this is different. It has _always_ been different."

Claire was slightly taken aback by the frankness and the emotion in Sherry's voice. Sherry herself had said that she hadn't been with Wesker for very long; if that was the case, how come she knew so much about him, more than anyone? The blonde girl fixed her with an intense, fierce gaze.

"Call him insane, call _me_ insane if you want, but that's how life goes. I remember that, before we parted ways, you told me about your family and I told you about mine. You said you had lost your parents in a car accident, right? And I lost mine to the city's disaster... but he lost them to time, to his own mind," said Sherry, visibly struggling to keep her voice steady. Claire couldn't avoid a gasp, lifting her eyebrows.

"Ho-how do you know so much?" she inquired, her voice thin. Chris had known Wesker his entire life, had seen all he was made of, and not even her brother knew so much about him! Claire had, without a doubt, followed her brother's example, but was a real change of mind coming?

"Because it's the only thing I inherited from my father, the only thing I knew I had been made responsible for," Sherry replied, lowering her head. "I'm not saying anything else; it's something I'm keeping to myself."

Claire examined her friend with care, taking in how sorrowful and depressed she seemed. Exhaustion was visible across her features, noticeable in her gaze and in her stance, and she could also see the many scars that hadn't healed by taking a mere look into her eyes. It was true: everyone she knew had known pain. Herself, Leon, Sherry, Chris... everyone in the world but, for some reason, she suspected Sherry's wounds were far more severe than even her own.

Claire felt doubts assailing her mind. How to think of Sherry now? Of course, she couldn't push her away after so long, but there was also something about her that had gotten to her. She had changed, that of course too was meant to happen, but she suddenly went to compare both of her situations. Whilst Claire and Chris, even though having lost their parents when they were very young, had received their love and care, it had been very different with Sherry. With that in mind, there was no way Claire could ask her to see things in a different light! Not even try to ask her, because it would be futile. Sherry was too different from Claire and not only when it came to being different people, but their pasts were worlds apart, worlds literally apart.

"Sometimes, I don't even know what to think myself," she heard Sherry whisper, and she snapped out of her thoughts. "Sometimes I think that there might be another way to see things but I can't figure it out; I can't figure out how to have another point of view. It seems there's nothing I can do."

Claire thought her answer carefully, not wanting to make things worse than they already were. "Then don't try," she said at last, making Sherry snap her head up at her in disbelief. "We're too different, even though we have aspects that are alike; we're both from different times, so to speak. You've known your concept of pain, of happiness, of sadness and joy; I've known mine. When you said I couldn't ask you to be in my place because you couldn't be, I didn't know the answer to that. Or maybe I did, only that I didn't see it. Now I know why you said so."

"Claire, I'm not... I'm not trying to make you change, it's just that-" Sherry started, but Claire made her fall silent with a gesture of her hand.

"You can't betray him, right?" Claire said; it was not a question, but a statement. When she moved her eyes to Sherry, she saw the girl had frowned in concern, as if fearing Claire's reaction to her answer.

_We're always afraid of the answer, not the question in itself._

"Claire, he-he saved my life! I wouldn't even be here if it hadn't been for him! He _gave _me a life!" Sherry insisted, getting closer to her. "But... but I also have to thank you; I'm still in debt with you, and now I feel unable to pay it back."

"There's one you can do to pay the debt back, Sherry," Claire said slowly, "and that is helping my brother. You know what happened to him, correct?"

"I do. I took care of him for the most time, but his current state is the result of a fight he fought on his own; I didn't help him on that," Sherry replied, and Claire frowned.

"Then it's time you help him, that _we both _help him," she stated, determined. "He fears losing himself and rightfully so, but I want to make him see that the anguish is not worth it. Sherry, it's not just because of the debt you still have, it's also because it's a request from me. Please, I'm not sure if I can do it alone; you've seen how Chris is."

Claire knew the statement had taken Sherry off guard.

"You-you're willing to-" Sherry stammered, and Claire saw her chance to intervene.

"I'm willing to, yes. There's nothing absolute in this world, only relative things and aspects. I've always trusted you, Sherry, and I think that knowing your family, I would've seen something different in them. Judging by how you act, I expected you to tell me what you just did. If there's... another way to see things, I'm going to see them like that, or at least I'll try."

Sherry hesitated clearly, staring at Claire with wide and bleary eyes, and she flashed her a light smile. An embrace came next, one through which Claire experienced all the pain Sherry was going through; she was hurting, and badly. It was all too intense, only to be worsened when Sherry seemingly couldn't hold back a sob. They stayed in silence for a short while, Claire trying to console the young woman as well as she could, and said,

"I didn't know your father, but I'm sure he would've been proud."

"I sometimes wish things had gone down a different lane, though there's no changing it now. It happened, and that's it," said Sherry, sighing. "We didn't have what you would exactly call a happy life, but it was enough, and I miss him."

Claire felt a pinch of concern in her gut at the tinges of wistfulness in Sherry's voice. "I don't know about the first one, but I know about the second."

Sherry exhaled in a way that told Claire she had smiled. Her next words seemed to strengthen their bond.

"At least I'm not alone... not anymore."

xx

There were no reasons for him to believe that he was going insane, but Chris had the unmistakeable feeling that he indeed _was_ insane. Something akin to paranoia hadn't left him alone since the moment he'd seen Wesker again for the first time, and it was getting worse with each second that went by. His mind felt heavy with thoughts and assumptions that didn't seem to make sense but eventually would make it, heavy with sensations he didn't know how to classify, heavy with the words he'd been hearing for quite some time. They were words of hatred, loathing, fear and envy; of mistrust, revenge and resent, words that kept echoing inside his mind. Chris had tried to get rid of everything many times, one after another, but still no avail: it was all in vain.

_**Fragile, weak, alone, distrusted, resented and I could keep going. Doesn't it get to you?**_

"Just... just leave me be."

Chris rested his forehead on his knees, hiding his face from view, trying to calm his rushed and uncontrollable breathing. He felt unstable, his hands gripping his head in an attempt to silence that annoying voice. Instability: what he feared to feel. Fragile, weak, alone, distrusted, resen-

_NO! I can't think that, I-_

_**You stupid, INSANE idiot! Can't you just realize that what you want is to be held close to someone? You can't stand to be ALONE, can't you? You can't stand to see all those who are close to you drift away with you being unable to do anything! Snap out of it and get used to being alone!**_

"It's because of _you_ that I'm alone," Chris replied out loud, not caring about being heard, not caring about _anything_. "I'm changing, even the others don't see me as myself, and it's all because of your influence."

Chris could hear a soft, cold laugh in his ears, could feel someone slinging an arm around his shoulders in a comforting gesture of coldness and mockery.

_**My influence? So now you think I'm real and not a figment of your twisted imagination? You flatter me; my presence is finally acknowledged. **_

"A figment of my imagination?" Chris snapped, springing to his feet and looking around. Claire's words about split personality came to his mind and realized what was going on, though he refused to believe it was happening. "That's what you are, a figment of it! You're nothing more than-"

_**Than WHAT, Christopher? I'm nothing more than what?**_

Chris desperately searched for someone to look at, for someone that seemed like the incarnation of that voice so that he could look at him and shout.

He found that incarnation: his reflection on the mirror.

Chris could do nothing more than stare at his reflection with wide eyes, knees shaking and threatening to give under him and make him collapse. Now he knew he was insane: seeing how a different himself was mirrored in front of him, another one of his 'I', another ego. That ego, that 'I', was propped against the wall behind the real Chris, a wide grin plastered across its features and eyes glistening with disdain and amusement, _wicked_ amusement.

_**Can't recognize me? I'm hurt.**_

Paralyzed, Chris felt how his gut _literally _clenched and left him breathless as he stared in utter horror at the reflection that menaced to steal his self, all that he felt he was. "Who-who are you?" he brought himself to ask, working only with reverse psychology. The rational part of his mind told him to step away from the danger his reflection posed but the direction in which he took the step was forward, macabre curiousness replacing his terror and apprehension.

His other self flashed him a scornful smile. _**I'd tell you to search within yourself and find out, though I've just said that right now. If you want me to go to the point, I'm all you avoid to be. I'm also a conscious entity within your mind; if not, why would I be calling myself 'I'? **_

Chris felt sick, disbelief and disgust heavy on his stomach, but he had to hold back a cough to avoid throwing up. He shook his head. "This is not happening... I'm hallucinating... No, you're not real!"

_**Oh no, you're not hallucinating. Think yourself under the influence of the substance flowing through your veins that's now part of your system, but you'll be dreadfully wrong. Moreover, you just proved my point: I am real. You've given me personality and identity, though I don't want to be you.**_

At last, Chris fell to his knees, shaking almost to the point of convulsing. He felt cold, cold as if dead, couldn't bring himself to calm down. His breathing came out irregularly, also shaky, his eyes stung with tears and his whole body was gradually becoming drenched in sweat. Insanity took the best of him, making him cry all the tears he hadn't shed in his life.

_**I know what you're going to do: you're going to wish I wasn't here, you're going to wish that it was all back to normal, that nothing had happened. You'll shout at me, you'll reject me, you'll try to banish me from your mind but you will fail. I am those tears you're shedding now, I am that anger you're holding back, I am that desire to kill that burns within you but has never been unleashed. You can't hold yourself back any longer, can you?**_

"I'm not like you say I am; I'm different."

_**Please... you're so FUCKING simple-minded that you just can't see it. Do you think there's only good and bad within people? That there's only one of those two within us? You yourself are the evidence that that doesn't and will never happen, Chris. You think yourself honest, an example, but there's turmoil and insecurity within you. You can't hide that no matter what, you just CAN'T sweep it under the fucking rug!**_

"DON'T SAY ANYTHING ELSE! YOU'RE NOT REAL!"

More tears came, showing whoever was with him how broken and shaken Chris was. In despair and pain, he no longer silenced his sobs.

_**I KNEW IT! I knew you'd do this, why didn't you do it before? You're blind, that's why. You think you know yourself but you just CAN'T grasp the concept of your miserable existence! Your existence isn't yours, in fact; you're reversing roles with your worst enemy!**_

"SHUT UP! Don't you DARE speak about him!" Chris bellowed. Direction-less, he spun around, trying to locate the source of his other self's voice. With renewed anger, Chris dried his eyes and looked everywhere, never to find that self of his, but kept hearing his strong, unrelenting voice.

_**He's a clear example of all you are! Even though you're complete opposites, that's what makes you alike! Or do you think he didn't go through this? You just can't keep up with him, can you? You made your choice: you wanted to try and see if there was something different within him, but you're unable to figure it out. Why? Because you're blind. You think you know everything about him but in reality, you don't. Ask Jill; I'm sure she's got more experience than you.**_

"She's getting tricked by him, that's obvious!" Chris shot back with anger, but then that anger was replaced by a shocking realization that made him fall silent, choking on his words and almost gagging. "You're not- you're not saying she..."

His other self laughed once more, this time harder and louder. _**We're getting somewhere, aren't we? **_

"No... that's impossible! She wouldn't!"

_**Didn't she say it wasn't as bad as she thought it would've been? Looks like you didn't detect the undertone in that, eh?**_

"There was NO undertone in that sentence! She was telling the truth!"

"_Chris? Chris, can I come in?_"

Chris' heart skipped more than two beats as he pivoted around, his wide gaze fixed upon the door in disbelief. Jill couldn't be outside his room, she COULDN'T! The dreadful amount of saliva in his mouth told him he'd throw up in panic at any moment, but nothing happened. An emotion he hadn't become used to seized him, rendering him unable to speak: fear.

_**She's here, she's here! Whatever shall you do? Christopher, you had already smelled it, you knew something was cooking. **_

His other self's voice suddenly became soothing, tempting, enticing. The voice spoke right beside his ear, its cold breath stroking it and sending chills down Chris' spine.

_**You're going to examine her, you're going to see that she's betrayed you. They were suspicions you didn't want to accept but were unbelievably true. Now you have to feel what envy and jealousy feel like. With your words you will hurt her feelings, but you will feel much better; that I can assure you. Listen to me: you'll do the right thing.**_

"What if it doesn't work?"

_What am I doing? Am I actually LISTENING to him?_

_**If it doesn't work, you will KILL her. I'm sure you'll do it; you didn't have any difficulties feeling the eagerness to do so.**_

"I can't kill her, I can't..."

_**Because you love her? How can you love her if all she gives you are wounds and pain? **_

"Am I not the same to her?" Chris asked, lowering his head. How could he be discussing his feelings with an entity that considered itself real? No, that _he himself _considered real, to be present within his mind?

_**You're learning that love has two meanings: to **love** someone and to **want **someone**.** Which did you choose since the very beginning?**_

Now, rationality kicked in, insanity was his guide and his own voice was his mentor.

He had to listen.

* * *

_A/N: Alright, let me explain: during Chris' conversation with Claire, I did hint at his split personality; also, that voice he heard was nothing more than who you've found out if was: another conscious entity which will find its name later on. Whilst I want to take a bit of a supernatural focus towards this, this split personality matter is one of the side effects of Uroboros: it's making Chris hallucinate. And it's all worse with him not wanting to take the PG doses, so he's -to be blunt- really screwed._

_Concerning other characters, they will have their appearance before the story ends (characters such as Marco, Freya, Vithar, surprise characters... you name it!) so they will have a place in the sequel (if I ever get to write it). Don't fret; this is going fine._

_Reviews are appreciated!^^  
_


	22. Chapter XXII: Symbiosis

**Author's Note:** People, believe it, this is an update. Finally! First I had a situation with school (which is over xD) and now I'm fighting with one I have at home, so I barely have had time to touch this story. Nevertheless, it's here and with the same things as before. Let's make a recap:

_Thanks to the side-effects of the virus and his reluctance to take the serum, Chris is starting to develop a split personality that acts as a sidekick, a dark sidekick that is like an advisor to his actions: it's his counterpart, all Chris has been suppressing and it's coming back to bite him in the ass. At the same time, he realizes all that has been going on between Jill and Wesker, and he's about to set things straight with Jill... not in a pleasant way. He doubts his nature and his persona, and there's only one way he can make it stop._

Warning: this chapter has no set point of view during the second fragment, so all the characters' thoughts are heard. I want no criticism for this, since its an essential thing to do.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters.**

**

* * *

**XXII

Symbiosis

_**A lonely whisper in your ear  
Saying the things you don't want to hear  
With a breath, you hear him say  
On this night, you will die this way  
**_

Leon had literally frozen in his spot when he'd opened the door to Claire's apartment.

With a mild expression of surprise -contrary to what he really felt inside- he'd stared at the living room: almost everything was sprawled over the floor, clearly indicating signs of struggle, and that's what Leon hadn't liked a single bit. Also, contrary to what he had and hadn't expected, Claire wasn't there, a fact which would've had him worked up if he wasn't for his knack to keep a cool head. What had him more worried than usual were the spatters of blood across the centre of her rug, but what else could he have in mind? Whoever had come and taken her sure had been meticulous, all the mess in the living room aside: there was nothing else he could have as clue to her current location.

Leon headed over to her phone and checked the list of received calls, going over it carefully so as to have the tiniest hint, even where there wouldn't be. After checking it out, he came up with nothing. Alright, this was getting frustrated whether there was room to admit it or not. There was no-one else he could contact save for Hunnigan, who was still working along with him, and she barely knew about Claire. There wasn't Jill nor... Chris who, according to Jill, had passed away a month ago... not Rebecca either, since -as far as Leon knew- hadn't kept in touch with Claire recently. Returning the phone to its place, Leon sighed.

Where could he keep looking?

As if on cue to his question, his cell phone started buzzing in his pocket. Who could it be, Leon didn't know, and looking at the screen didn't help much: private number. Whoever it was, Leon was already distrustful.

"Hello?" he spoke, instinctively taking his hand to the pager resting inside his pocket.

"_Leon? Leon, is that you?_"

Leon's eyes grew wider. "...Claire?"

"_Thank God I could catch you!_" she exclaimed on the other side. A wave of relief washed over him: that was undoubtedly Claire's voice. "_You don't know how glad I am to hear you..._"

"Claire, where are you?" Leon asked back, not waiting a heart's beat. "Are you okay? I'm at your place; it's a complete mess! What happened?"

"_Never a dull moment, huh?_" Claire teased, easing the tension. "_You wouldn't believe where I am, Leon. A few miles off your position, under Brooklyn Bridge... but _under."

The second emphasis left Leon confused, but he didn't push farther: conversations over the phone weren't too safe, and only God knew if whoever had captured her -if that had been the case- was still looking for her.

"Brooklyn?" he echoed, nevertheless baffled by her words. "You're safe, right?"

"_Safer than ever, fortunately,_" Claire replied, her tone telling Leon she was smiling; he knew that tone of hers too well. "_Listen, when can you get here? You've got a lot of catching up to do, so do I, and it's not too safe to talk over the phone..._"

Leon nodded. "Fine, I'll see what I can do to get there as soon as I can."

"_Okay. Meet you at the airport? We can get there with no problems._"

"We?" Leon echoed again as fished out his keys, which also had the ones to Claire's place, and started locking the door before leaving. "Who's with you?"

"_Shush, you. You'll find out when you get here._"

"Okay, as funny as always," Leon shot back, his tone a bit lighter than before. "I'll give you a ring once I'm there; let's see how much I take. Take care and be careful."

"_Sure thing. You be safe too._"

It was then that Claire hung up. Now all Leon needed to do was contact Hunnigan... and wait.

xx

It was time to face the truth.

With her gut clenched and arms almost tingling with uneasiness, Jill made her way towards Chris' room. She wasn't one to lose her cool very easily, but something told her that the matter Chris wanted to talk about was important, even... personal. If it was what she expected, she could start bracing herself for a bumpy ride. Along the way, one of Sherry's co-workers, Zoe, told her Wesker had something he wanted to talk about with her but Jill didn't heed Zoe's words; if she went and saw him before speaking with Chris, words wouldn't flow like the sands of an hourglass were meant to.

Once in front of Chris' door, she knocked on the door once but no answer... not directly. Jill leaned against the door, trying to make out if someone was talking, but she found it impossible. Then, she rapped thrice. "Chris? Chris, can I come in?"

Silence; then, Chris' typical whistle to say 'yes'. Hesitant, she made her way inside the room. Uneasiness greeted her, tension did too, all accompanied by a stone silence. She found Chris sitting at the foot of his bed, on the floor, knees flexed and gaze seemingly lost. The same moment she flinched to move, Chris' head snapped towards her and his gaze met hers. Jill couldn't help growing stiff.

_I've become used to his gaze, but now it's unnerving. He's not the same, but God forbid._

For a long moment they remained silent. Jill remained at the door, debating whether to get closer to him or not; one movement could prove the wrong thoughts, and she didn't need that to happen. She intended to follow Chris' gaze to see where he was looking but his eyes didn't move from her face. What she did notice was how his brow had twitched: a scowl not achieved.

"You reek of him," Chris suddenly said. "You spend a lot of time with him, don't you?" he then asked with a face of disgust. Jill didn't reply, stayed mute and in her place, and kept a close eye on him. Chris was mad at her, and now she understood why.

"What's that you wanted to talk about?" she asked at last, taking some steps towards him. Chris cocked an eyebrow, his eyes ablaze with indignation and anger.

"You and what you're keeping up," he replied, his tone harsh, angry. "His scent is too strong on you; you've been close to him... and 'close', haven't you? Wouldn't surprise me, actually." That last sentence was full of disdain, rejection, hate. Jill's stomach knotted in uneasiness: Wesker himself had an idea of what was going on with her and her 'interests', but it'd be all new to Chris. How to explain? No, how to explain _without lying_?

XX

_As his arm circled her shoulders, his lips gently touched her temple, a gesture she didn't appreciate as much as she would've wanted to. He had obviously noticed her hesitation and asked, "What's wrong?"_

"_I'm... uneasy. You know why, right?"_

"_I do. You don't know what it is to lie until you lie to someone close to you, do you? He doesn't have to know and consider this: it'd work on our benefit."_

"_But sooner or later he'll find out."_

"_The truth is cruel and hurts, but no more than a lie. If you want to tell him, go ahead and do so."_

"_What about you?"_

"_About me? Nothing. I myself don't have a choice in the matter: it's you who should tell him." She was still hesitant, even though she knew nothing would happen between them both. "I know of your interests and I know you don't plan on choosing, but that requires that you tread with care. One false step and it's all gone."_

"_But haven't all my steps been false since the moment I saw you again?"_

"_Perhaps they've been. If you tell him, it'll be painful; that's more than obvious. Though if something happens, have this in mind: it's because it was meant to be. I don't believe in fate and you shouldn't either, but maybe things tend to happen for a cause. I've learnt to see things another way so I tell you this: don't be afraid of the effect. If you confront it, that'll be the cause and then it'll have another effect, better or worse. We just have to wait."_

"_How to lie without lying?"_

XX_  
_

Without lying, as simple as that: the only solution.

As Chris stood up, Jill posed, "What if I was?"

She didn't change her expression when she saw Chris stare at her intently, eyes going wide and a grin in disbelief appearing on his face. "Then you're insane."

Jill crossed her arms out of instinct. "Well, let me tell you: I _am_ getting close, not as 'close' as you think I am getting," she snapped, defiant. First lie on the way.

And oh, how Chris had noticed it. Did Jill think he was stupid? No matter how much he wanted to talk, he already knew what was going on and it had been thanks to his intuition, his instincts, his capability to read Jill Valentine like an open book.

_**She's LYING, she's lying! Don't you see it? But just wait for a few moments, drag this along and toy with her; let her know of your thoughts, of all you've never said and then... tell her, tell her you knew. Trick**_**_her into believing she's hit home, control her, _**manipulate_** her.**_

Chris shook his head, a dark chuckle acting as the prelude of his words. "I already thought you were insane, Jill, but this just borders the ridiculous. Are you out of your goddamned mind? What are you trying to prove with that? I mean, I just can't believe it!"

"Don't you dare make any assump-"

"Assumptions?" Chris bellowed, sweeping the air in front of him with a quick movement of his arm.

_**YES! Keep going like this! **_

_My God, what's happening? _

Jill was too taken aback: Chris would be one to argue some other time, but his tone never reached the intensity which it had right now. "For Hell's sake, this is hysterical. Why? Why are you doing this? You're-you're betraying my trust in you! What about all he did to you, huh? Wasn't HE the one who hurt you and ME the one who helped you pull through? What the hell's gotten into you!"

_**See? You healed her wounds but she's opening yours again. It's time you hurt **_her**_, it's TIME!_**

"I know what you both did with me; don't think I'm oblivious to that!" Jill snapped, raising her voice, but Chris couldn't believe her... because he didn't even _want_ to.

_**So if she's not oblivious to it, then why is she doing this to you? Poor little one... now give her what she's asking for!**_

"Then you know what?" Chris snapped back. "Either it's me or you're completely ignoring what _I_ did for you. What's this of turning to him now? Every single wound will be opened again; you, and even _I_, complained about how much they made us hurt and ache inside. Hell, it's not just about me, but about _you_! Do you honestly think that bastard will be able to heal them again?"

"I haven't forgotten what you did for me; how many times did I thank you for it?" Jill said, keeping her tone as convincing as she could. "But he's also helping me, Chris; I can't lie to you: he is truly helping me."

"What if he's truly _manipulating_ you?" Chris asked, unrelenting.

_**It's not like you're going to avoid doing that too, aren't you?**_

_Chris, if you only understood..._

"He would've done it a long time ago, and I know he did it many times before," Jill agreed, lowering her head. "Chris, Wesker's changed; I know that."

"Considering what happened, think of it as TBI; there's nothing sincere or genuine behind his words and actions," Chris shot back, seething. "No matter what, he's always been pretending. Sooner or later he'll hurt you again, no matter how close he seems to be to you."

_What-what is he admitting? Did he know already?_

_**Oooh, your tongue is slipping but no matter. You did throw the undertone there, so good job.**_

"You still doubt me?" she breathed out in disbelief. "So you just determine people's character by how they act with _you_?"

"Why is it always me, for fuck's sake?" he shouted. "Hasn't it all been the same with you? Please, Jill, be rational! Has he really changed you that much?"

"He hasn't done anything to me, _I have!_" Jill insisted, gesturing at herself with a hand. "With or without him around, I have been the one to change myself. Why do you always think it's influence?"

_**Now make her see... Make her see you care and then hurt her.**_

But Chris didn't say anything out of instinct or anger, but because of genuine concern and affection. No matter what happened, what he did or said, Jill would keep drifting away from him... and he was jealous. "Stay away from him or you'll suffer again. Changed or unchanged, he's still our enemy."

"_Our_ enemy, huh?" Jill scoffed. "You might want to consider our partnership till the end, Chris, but he's not my enemy anymore, never mind what you say. The fact that you're stupidly single-minded doesn't give you the right to say what I have to do! I'm not someone you can control. I can take perfect care of myself; I know what I'm doing!" Even Jill herself couldn't believe the tone with which she was speaking: low and menacing, too defiant.

Only God knew where the argument would end.

Chris hastily shook his head as well as his hands in a sign of refusal. Jill, at the same time, felt that sooner or later she'd lose control on her temper. It seemed like she wasn't talking to Chris Redfield.

_I have to understand his reasons, though he's taking it out of scale! This is not like him!_

_**Ring around the rosie... and here we go again.**_

"It's not about- wait: me, single-minded? HA! That's just great, really. Well, being like that has helped me to keep my facts straight, not change my mindset at the slightest prompt. Unlike you, I still can see things like they are!"

"So you're just going to stereotype him? Call him a psychopath?"

"Didn't you tell me of all the things he did to you while he had you prisoner?" Chris asked Jill, his tone surprisingly calm this time. "Didn't you let me know of all the pain and the suffering he put you through? How do you know he's not scheming to do it again? It doesn't matter what he does, says or feels: he hurts people one way or another."

"I know I did that... but he also cared for me," Jill replied, her voice almost breaking. "And I told you!"

"Cared for you because it was in his interest, Jill, or didn't you see that?"

The remark hit home.

_He's also right about that, but I just can't agree with him anymore. Chris has got his vision of Wesker, I've got mine, and they're too different. I can't... convince him of anything else. If this is going where I think it will, then I might just as well tell him and get it over with. As long as he doesn't know, both he and I will be hurting and we'll eventually collapse... and I can't let that happen._

"Chris, now it's time for me to ask: didn't you also tell me you'd try to see Wesker as a different person? Why didn't you try?" Jill inquired, getting closer to him. "I know he won't be the same when you are around, but I can assure you he's not like before. If I am indeed getting close to him, it's all because he opened up to me just like _you_ did a long time ago."

_I'm hurting him, but this will be better than a white lie._

_**She's hurting you, but you don't want to lose her. Though will you allow your enemy to take her away from you? Because that's what he's doing. Through pain you won't get her back, that's for sure, but she'll understand sooner or later.**_

Chris looked away, breaking the eye contact Jill had tried so hard to maintain.

"I-I can't believe you're doing this to me, Jill, I just can't."

"If you say you still can see things straight, then why is it me the only one who's still at ease when Wesker's around? Don't you think I might've, you know, changed a bit?" Jill said, shrugging at the end. "Can't you just get another idea of _who I am_?"

Chris was desperately trying to find heads and tails to the situation. Jill's words were making him consider, but his hate towards Wesker wasn't making things any easier. He feared she'd be hurt again but her stubbornness also complicated things. What else could he do?

"What do you want me to say?" Chris asked, undeterred. "He almost killed you, killed me, killed my sister! Hell, he _murdered_ our teammates! I can't believe you're going to overlook that."

"Chris, we're are _all_ sinners; there are no sinners and saints with distinctions here," Jill piped up, changing back to an apprehensive and defiant stance. "You haven't even tried to do what I've done and you think you know everything about him?"

"Actions say more than words, Jill, or so it goes," he told her. "I'm not speaking about actions with a particular person, but actions in general. To me, and initially to you too, he proved himself to be a monster, a heartless manipulator that cared only for himself."

"_I know all of that!_" Jill felt like she couldn't hold herself back anymore and stomped a foot against the floor. "Do you think I'm an amnesiac? But people change, Chris; he can even change, too! He's shown me that he's different, that he has and hasn't got a reason to be like he is! And I..."

And now, for some reason, Jill felt unable to go on talking. Unconsciously, she focused on the beating of her heart, too strong against her ears and her temples, and sensed her breathing escalating. Sudden hesitation gripped her, rendered her mute, and she stared at Chris in apprehension.

_He can't know, he can't know, he can't know, he- _

"You what?" came his sudden question which interrupted her train of thought. Jill swallowed, about to speak, but then came the unimaginable.

_**And this is when you and me both come in.**_

To Chris' delight and Jill's shock, he smiled at her almost laughing. Jill couldn't avoid gasping at the gesture, her hands trembling, and only when Chris' smile vanish did she feel like crying. Then, when his question came, she was mute.

"It's all because you love him, don't you?"

Time seemed to stop.

His voice came indifferent, cold, neutral and wicked, an all too different tone from the one he'd been speaking with until now. It was simply different in unexplainable ways. As she expected, Jill couldn't bring herself to say anything and only stared at him as fear invaded her.

"It's true that I might be blinded by my hate," Chris said calmly, a dangerous glint in his eyes, "but if you're defending him like you would've defended me, it's because you love him... right, Jill?"

As soon as Chris was done speaking, he rushed forwards as a faint black blur and Jill suddenly found herself against the wall, Chris' hand threatening to close its grip around her throat. Once more, Jill was afraid of him and his presence, which sent chills and waves of panic down her spine that rendered her unable to move. His piercing gaze met her own and tears finally left her eyes as she didn't hold back a pained sob, one that wracked her body with agony.

"Hey, hey," he called, brushing some strands off Jill's forehead. Those affectionate gestures had transformed into macabre ones, senseless gestures that didn't prove anything, and Jill knew that perfectly. A half-choked whimper escaped her lips when he laid his hand on her cheek and his fingers stroked her tears away. Jill feared him, this time more than any other one, because she knew Chris merely had to flinch to have her meet her demise... but he wouldn't do that, would he?

"Please don't," she managed to whisper, "don't-"

"Don't say anything," Chris interrupted her, leaving his fingers on her lips to silence her. Jill found it hard to maintain eye contact mostly because of her flowing tears. She couldn't tell why she was so afraid, but the point was that she felt that fear taking over her most basic of functions. "Just tell me this: tell me everything between us wasn't a lie."

A lie? Since when had it all been a lie? Jill didn't even know herself; it had all been so real since the beginning that she'd thought it had been true. She gave out a shaky breath, her voice quaking, and tried not to move. "I... Nothing was a lie, I swear!" she told him, but Chris only lowered his head as a response. He was in disbelief, she knew, unable to accept what she'd just said. "Chris, please-"

All of a sudden, he chuckled, the sound more high-pitched than usual. "Why so scared? I can tell he's been this close; if he's been like this and I have too, then why are you shaking like a leaf?" Jill couldn't guess what was so funny to him and as such, she remained silent. "Jill?"

"Let me go," she commanded, but her voice didn't come as strong as she wanted it to.

"You're slowly replacing me, aren't you?" he then asked, his eyes fixed upon hers, and Jill quickly shook her head.

"No! Don't you dare believe that!" she insisted. "I still love you; I wouldn't push you away!" She didn't even think she'd sounded convincing because of her shaky voice, and Chris didn't look up. "You have to-"

Once more she fell silent when his fingers, lithe and slow, dried the tears off her cheeks and eyes, his golden ones finally glancing up at her and seemingly trying to drill a hole into her skull. Though her breathing was still forced and shallow, her tears stopped flowing and her eyes met his again; Jill tried to find answers in them, but she received none. His right hand never left her throat, his grip never slackened, no words left his lips. Jill felt compelled to close her eyes, to keep his presence away, but she just complied with her mind's first wish; then it all was dark.

All of a sudden, something soft fell upon her mouth very gently; one more kiss to add to their list. No matter what the circumstances, Jill couldn't help herself: she didn't hesitate to return his kiss with nothing more than love, all the affection he thought he hadn't received. Without giving her time to breathe, he kissed her harder, taking her face in his hands and pulling her closer to him. On the contrary to what her mind expected to feel, there were no gentle strokes or caresses; all he wanted to say, it was his mouth which told her. Coming to her senses, Jill pulled away, sensing how unwilling Chris was to do so.

"Why-why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice a mere whisper. Instead of replying, Chris laid another chaste kiss upon her lips, one during which she felt daggers in her heart, and he said,

"Because I still love you with all my strength, and because I don't want to lose you."

_**That wasn't too much of a lie, was it? Trust me, she's not someone you can rely on anymore.**_

""You won't lose me, Chris," she told him, running a hand through his hair, "I promise; please, I'm being honest." But the more they stared at each other, the more she doubted he'd heed her words.

_Please, please, listen to me..._

Then, to her increasing desperation, Chris slowly stepped away from her.

"I don't believe that lie."

"CHRIS!"

In a blur, he was gone, the only sound audible the door's. As soon as her instincts kicked in, she stormed out outside the room, calling for him until nothing more than silence greeted her as an answer. She looked in all directions, not knowing which way to take, then finally decided to take the first corridor to her left. Jill didn't run: she _dashed_ up the hall in a mad sprint in hopes of finding him before he was completely gone, though for a moment she wondered... how would he leave the building without anyone knowing? He still had to be around, didn't he? It was a time for questions, but for answers.

But no matter how many halls she visited and looked through, she didn't find him. The whole complex was a maze of halls -she couldn't blame it-, and there was no way of knowing where Chris was. If she could've only been faster...

_No time to blame myself; I have to find him!_

Tears threatened to spill again, but she dried them off and kept looking, undeterred. The more she looked though, the more convinced she became of his absence, the more afraid she became of the single fact that he'd left, and that he wouldn't be coming back. Jill, after minutes of endless searching, eventually leaned against a wall to catch her breath, somehow confusing the tears she was shedding with the beads of sweat that trickled down her face; either way, they did the same: leaving her face a slate full of damp streaks.

"He can't be gone..." she told herself. "No, no..."

XX

"_But sooner or later he'll find out."_

"_The truth is cruel and hurts, but no more than a lie. If you want to tell him, go ahead and do so."_

"_What about you?"_

"_About me? Nothing. I myself don't have a choice in the matter: it's you who should tell him." She was still hesitant, even though she knew nothing would happen between them both. _

"_I know of your interests and I know you don't plan on choosing, but that requires that you tread with care. One false step and it's all gone."_

"_But haven't all my steps been false since the moment I saw you again?"_

"_Perhaps they've been. If you tell him, it'll be painful; that's more than obvious. Though if something happens, have this in mind: it's because it was meant to be. I don't believe in fate and you shouldn't either, but maybe things tend to happen for a cause. I've learnt to see things another way so I tell you this: don't be afraid of the effect. If you confront it, that'll be the cause and then it'll have another effect, better or worse. We just have to wait."_

"_How to lie without lying?"_

XX

Jill started walking to her room. For a moment, her mind suggested she mourned another lost friend, but she refused to do so, harboring what little hope she could. Chris had to come back, she knew he would... Maybe it was another senseless hunch, perhaps pointless since it was obvious his return would never happen and that she was merely trying to tell herself a false truth. Without leads, without the necessary energy to run after him, searching for Chris would be equally pointless; there was nothing to do so far. Another suggestion came: why not ask someone if they had seen him? Yet another task without a good result: people would know of Chris' absence. Jill knew they'd be aware of it sooner or later, but it was best to avoid a commotion now; she wouldn't be able to bear with it.

It hadn't been a long time since the last time she had felt this way but raw despair was gnawing at her without relent. She fought back a wave of nausea as she leaned against the wall for support, cold sweat moistening her whole body. All of a sudden her vision blurred, and the last thing she felt was pain.

xx

_**You're a handful, you know that? I can't believe you're doing this.**_

"Neither can I, that I assure you," he replied out of instinct, "but I guess you still don't know much about my 'other side', to put it like that?"

_**At all. The more you show, the more I'll learn though.**_

"That's something I never doubted."

_**You're getting used to my being here, it seems. Are you sure you don't want to fight me anymore? **_

Chris shook his head. "Not after what happened, actually. It's odd, but I can't explain it. Now leave me alone unless I want to seem like I'm crazy."

A small, derisive chuckle, and then the voice fell silent.

The wind picked up speed and strength, but Chris didn't feel cold at all in spite of sitting hundred and thirty feet over East River. After his 'talk' with Jill, he'd successfully sneaked out of the complex with nobody to stop him or tell someone else; having his special abilities also gave him the upper hand almost in every stealth situation. He wasn't one to blow his own horn, yet he had to admit he felt superior, not as powerless as before.

_Is that what you call it? Sounds odd to use the same terms as him..._

_**Yeah, that's what you call it: power. Something you've lacked all this time because you're too much of a modest soul. Isn't it time to be a bit selfish, for Hell's sake? Stop being the charitable man; think about yourself for a moment. They say power corrupts people, but I myself find it exceptionally sweet. Don't you?**_

Chris didn't know what to say. It all clashed with his beliefs, yet hadn't this conscience kicked them away, shattered them to pieces? He sighed, shook his head and stared up at the star-strewn sky. He didn't know for how long he'd been gone; not that he had to know... He wasn't coming back. He knew he was destroying Jill's hopes, but he couldn't face her, not this time. He blinked several times, his gaze lost and unfocused, with nothing more than apathy gnawing at his insides.

_This is all my fault. It happened back in Pennsylvania, I was careless. If I had been more careful, none of this would've happened._

_**What are you looking for, self-pity? You won't get any consolation coming from me, that's for sure.**_

"It's all because of this wretched virus, this... _thing _coursing through me," Chris shot back, opening and closing his fists. It was there, the inevitable sense of rage and self-disdain. He hated being like he was, he hated _himself_ like there was no tomorrow, he hated not being normal... and it was all his fault.

_**Careful here, you're getting nervous.**_

But Chris couldn't help it. Panic attacks came to him every time he thought about himself and there was no way to keep them at bay, not unless he resorted to hurting himself just to focus on the pain and escape the panic, the fear, the loathing. Eventually he calmed down, biting on his lip with almost the strength of a shark. With much care and precaution, Chris started planning his next course of action, but where to go from there? For all the people that knew him, save for Jill and the rest, he was a mere ghost, a mere memory: there was no-one he could rely on now save for himself.

_**You also got me. I can help you think; I'm not stupid, after all, neither are you.**_

"I can't go to anyone now. I should've thought of this."

_**C'mon, take situations as they come; it's not that bad to improvise**_, the voice said with humor. **_I got an improvisation for you, if you're up for suggestions._**

Chris felt intrigued at the proposition but he was still reluctant. If he had barely trusted himself throughout his life, how could he trust an entity within himself that had been with him for such a short time? Confusion was inevitable; he didn't know what to think anymore.

"Alright," Chris sighed. "Tell me. I'm all ears."

_**Let's make a recap first: you want to kill Wesker, you want to stop Marco, you want to be normal again, you want power... I think that's all. Now listen carefully: you have to go to Marco.**_

The voice's words were like a rock to Chris. In dismay, he shook his head. "Impossible, I'm not seeking help from that bastard. Look at what he did to my sister! He almost killed her!"

_**Dawh, and here I thought I had an idea. Try and see beyond people's appearances: Marco wants to get rid of Wesker too. Also, you know he received Uroboros from that failed attempt to thwart the deal in Penn, so he must've done some research on it. Use him to your advantage, though be advised: he'll use you too.**_

"I admit we have that common goal, but the rest is different," Chris shot back, crossing his arms. "Besides, he's not going to welcome me with open arms."

_**What about this 'business' he had to do? What about the second part of the deal Sherry and the others failed to notice? I myself don't know of Marco's intentions about this, but you have to give it a try. He has everything you need, you have everything he needs; it's symbiosis. You can't do it without him, he can't do it without you. He knows you've been awfully close to Wesker -and not in the way you'll surely scold me for- so you give him the advantage. At the same time, if you make him the offer of synthesizing the cure for you, you'll get back to normal. Everything has its counterpart, remember that.**_

Chris measured his words with a teaspoon. Everything was true, from the first to the last syllable, but resent was far from erasable. The horror and the pain he'd felt when he'd seen Claire in such a beaten-up state was not something he'd forget easily, and especially with Marco around him. But the voice was right. Chris himself had never been a manipulator -at least not with people- but this was his only choice to set things right. At the same time, he'd be betraying everyone and their trust on him.

_Think about myself... I can't do it; I _can't _betray everyone._

_**Your honor and pride keep you from doing that. There's always time to go back.**_

"I can't go back, it's too late, not unless I want to have a bullet between my eyes or a hand through my chest," Chris snapped in frustration. Silence ensued, then,

_**Alright, then let's do this: allow me to care about the negotiations. You sit back and watch.**_

"-the hell are you saying?" In that moment, Chris wished he had a face to look at. "Wha-what am I doing listening to you?"

_**You ignorant fool, you would just get in the way! Besides, Marco would notice how much you've changed if I take care of this. You're a goddamn open book; he'd see your hesitation coming miles away! And THAT would really fuck up everything we have planned.**_

"I'm not part of your plans."

To say that was a mistake. The voice's tone changed and became cold, menacing, deadly.

_**Then if you're not with me, you're against me. And I swear I can torture you to extents you can't imagine. You wouldn't like that, would you?**_

Certainly he wouldn't, but that black-and-white thinking didn't sit well with him. Chris took a few moments to think; it was not a decision to be made right off the bat. If there was something risky about it was trying to side with Marco and actually get what he was looking for, since Marco was far from trust-worthy when it came to strangers. Nevertheless, it seemed the man would never refuse an offer than would suit his interests, and kind of an upper hand was not knowing what his plans were so far. It was true he had manipulated every event in Africa so that Chris came out alive, so as to test him, but what about Claire? Were his intentions related to Chris' future offer of partnership? Was he actually trying to lure him?

_**Think about it. You'll betray your friends, but the closest one to you betrayed you first and LIED about it. I think Jill's someone that's found her place inside your little worn heart, so didn't it hurt more than anything else? It's an eye for an eye; moreover, it has its advantages for you and for me, and for everyone else if I may add. You're not alone in this, you can make it. You can go back in time, in a way.**_

"I won't go back in another," Chris uttered.

_**That might be true, but your obsession is about to spike and climb up to unimaginable levels.**_

"Obsession? What are you talking about?"

_**Weren't you obsessed about finding and killing Wesker that you forgot about everyone else? You dragged people alone sometimes, no matter if they wanted to go or not. They cared about you, but you refused to listen. Your revenge was still a hot dish; you should've waited. Nevertheless, look where it all got you. This time though you have everything you need in your reach, you just have to go and get it. Work along with Marco and both of you will find a way to kill Wesker. You'd hurt Jill's heart, maybe even break it to pieces, but that's what she deserves, right? She wouldn't have... 'befriended' him if she truly cared about you, if she truly held you close. **_

_**Make your choice: yes or no. But I think you know which to pick; you've known since the very beginning. You shouldn't be afraid of the outcome; just go with the flow, don't fight the current. For once, let yourself go.**_

Indeed, Chris knew which one to pick. This was his chance to be human again and to accomplish his objectives.

_**Power doesn't corrupt people, it just grants them the chance to do whatever they want. You have it now, and you can use it.**_

A sudden headache assailed Chris' head, leaving him with the feeling of not knowing where he was anymore or _who _he was. Lost, disoriented and confused, he tried to make sense of the mess his thoughts had suddenly become; try as he might, no avail. The pain increased, so did his fear, until nothing more than kind darkness took him in and dragged him into unconsciousness.

_**You HAVE to use it.**_

* * *

_A/N: End of chapter, and things are getting screwed here: Leon is on his way to meet Claire (and per ende, Sherry), Chris and Jill have argued (and quite heatedly) and he's considering joining Marco out of a suggestion. But there in the end, when Chris fell unconscious... what do you think that happened? What do you think that will happen in the next? Will Chris change his mind or will he keep on going? _

_I promise I'll have the next one up as soon as I can; bear with my slowness xD_

_Reviews are appreciated!^^  
_


	23. Chapter XXIII: Course Of Action

**Author's Note:** Yet another update (took me long enough though). Alright folks, we're nearing the end of the story. This is the last chapter before the epilogue, which kinda offers a bit of insight to what Chris has become from his alter's and the group's point of view. I get a bit technical here, playing with a few quirks of dissociative indentity disorder, also known as split personality (ta-duh!), but adding a few RE science to the mix. I hope I haven't lost my touch, though I think it came out good. Enjoy!^^

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs.**

**

* * *

**XXIII

Course of action

_'Some are born mad. Some remain so.' Samuel Beckett_

"So now you see what kind of, uh, business was still pending?"

Marco leaned back in his seat, taking a deep breath as he carefully scrutinized Chris from over his glasses. Marco kept biting the inside of his cheek to hold back a smirk: it all seemed to be going smoothly. On either side of him sat Vithar and Maria, the latter still cowering slightly at Chris' presence. The three had found a small, tranquil café to take some rest and think, thankfully having been granted a far off corner of the establishment. Also, thanks to the fact Maria Greene was not on a black list, Marco wasn't suspected too much. After being there for more than an hour or so, they were approached by none other than Chris Redfield whose personality, to Marco's surprise, seemed to have given a full three-sixty spin.

"I see it. Looks like persuasion works better on me than him," said Marco's companion. Marco couldn't still get used to the fact there were two identities to Chris now, so the current one by the name of Christopher had explained, and it seemed there wouldn't be a truce between the real Chris and the other one. "He hates being like this, obviously, but I find it quite pleasant."

Marco shrugged. "Quite the contrast. Tell me though, why the sudden proposition?"

"Don't be rhetorical, Gionne, you know why," Christopher snapped, smirking. "I have something you want, you have something that I do, too. It's normal that we seek benefits from this... call it exchange."

Marco cast him a sideways glance. "So you're willing to leave everyone behind?"

"That's not a question I have to answer," Christopher said, disdainful. "These people that Chris calls 'friends' mean nothing to me and they never will. It seems Chris is also willing to leave them behind, so no problems there. However, there is someone who I'm quite interested in, so are you and so is he."

"Wesker," Marco breathed out, rubbing his chin absently. "How do I know there's no other... link between Redfield and the others? Wouldn't he attempt to return and take over?"

"Nah," Christopher replied, leaning back on his seat in a laid-back manner, "he wouldn't dare."

"Oh?" Maria asked, skeptical. "I wouldn't doubt it."

"Save the sarcasm for later," Marco snapped. "This can't be a joke."

"And it isn't," Christopher claimed, locking his fingers. "He rejects himself, you see, and he wants my help. In fact, I'm not here out of some mental fight. He's... easily convinced, considering you have what he wants at all costs." For a moment, he seemed pensive. "He's got a complex mind, yet also simple at the same time. I can pull as many strings as I want and he won't feel a single thing; that is in some scenarios. In others... I can make him suffer to extents he wouldn't have imagined. So you see, he's lenient, and that's what's going to make him fall."

"But what are you exactly?" asked Maria.

"Or... who?" Vithar pointed out, coming out of his timidness and intimidation.

Christopher shook his head, smiling. "I'm him. There's no other way around it; he's me, I'm him. I told him once that I was all that he had held back, and you can take advantage from him this time, too, not just me."

"In what way?" asked Marco, curious. Chris and Christopher, whoever they were, whether one or two, were proving to be quite a pair. Marco wasn't one to manipulate people -his style was with facts and situations-, but if he could make use of Chris and not just his alter, then the others would be up for a good surprise.

As if enthralled, Christopher said, "He's got killer instincts like you couldn't imagine. He's someone still haunted by the past, inevitably clinging to it as if it were something unforgettable despite his friends' ability to leave it as spilled milk. There's some kind of connection between us, one that allows me to feel what he feels, and that, paired with what I feel... He'd be like an enraged animal, finally released from its restraints. Deep down, he's always wanted to kill, he's always wanted to hurt others. I wouldn't like to say he's hidden some... sadistic tendencies. They've all been fueled by the person we both want to kill."

An unconscious shiver ran down Marco's spine and he stared at Christopher with every-so-slightly widened eyes. "I see..." Marco reflected.

"We will be looked for, naturally," Christopher claimed, shrugging, "and we'll be waiting. Though I'll let him take care of the... confrontation. I like to sit back and watch sometimes, and it'd be time for him to take the reins."

"Then we'll lure them in," Marco said. "They're still with their defenses raised high up; they fear I may strike again in some weeks' time. However, I won't: I'll let _them_ strike first. With Redfield's disappearance, things are going to get heated up."

"You can take that for granted," Christopher agreed, "especially when it comes to Valentine. She's headstrong; she's never given up on Chris and I doubt she ever will." Christopher smiled a shark-like grin. "I'm sure the Chris that's still here," he knocked on his head twice, "will be more than happy to see them. Do we make a deal first?"

"Let's say we will not, but consider it as cooperation," said Marco. "I have no conditions set, and you seem quite willing to come to our side."

"More than willing; I'm sick of playing the good part. Oh, his girl's mine, though," Christopher added, raising a finger. "But it'd also be nice to kill Wesker and her at the same time, maybe give each other the chance to see one another again."

"Those are future plans," Marco pointed out. "For now, let's focus on the present. You can trick him into believing I will give him back his humanity? I'm not sure the vaccine may work."

"What is the greatest of advantages of this disorder?" Christopher asked, leaning forward with a shady smile. "Amnesia. I may have to swap some time, so expect episodes of amnesia both from him and me; that has got to be the setback. A bit of stimuli may work for both of us, but I'm sure there won't be any need for it. To be honest, I don't know for sure yet."

"No matter; at least it'll all flow." Marco stood up from his seat, so did the rest of the people. He spread out a hand. "So the 'deal' stands?"

Christopher shook Marco's hand without hesitation. "The deal stands."

"How soon can you meet us behind Independence Hall?"

Once more, the shark-like grin returned to Christopher's features. "As soon as I give _them_ a head start. It wouldn't be fun otherwise."

Marco frowned, then nodded. "Very well. You have an hour starting now."

"Perfect."

xxx

It didn't take Jill any longer than three seconds to jolt out of unconsciousness. She took a moment to register she had been lying down until now, another to shoot quick glances at the people who were with her in the room, then the last one to finally accept Chris wasn't there. Immediately, she turned her gaze away, getting used to the lightning at the same time she hid the shame that was surely living in her eyes. Nobody said anything, not even her when she saw Leon and Rebecca making her not so needed company, though it all left her confused. Since when had they been there? Leon she could understand, but Rebecca? The aforementioned by her mind took a few steps towards Jill, making eye contact.

Jill sighed. At first she didn't know what to say, then decided to go with a simple and rhetorical question. "You know, don't you?"

As a response, both Leon and Rebecca nodded.

"You've been sleeping for the past seven hours," said Leon, his voice as deep as always. When his words came, Jill noticed perfectly the pointed tinge in them, "We've had time to catch up."

Jill would've wanted the reunion to happen another way, with the typical greetings and time to rejoice after seeing her friends nice and well, but there was neither time nor mood to do so. She tightened her jaw and remained firm, not even flinching at the uncomfortable silence that followed Leon's remark, and thought of a way to make her escape out of her current predicament. She remembered her own words: she couldn't lie or everything would go to worse. For another reason, like an instant knock on the back of her mind, she thought of Wesker and his take on the situation; it wouldn't differ from hers in many ways.

"I just came here two hours ago," said Rebecca. She sighed, then asked, "Do you have any idea where he could be?" Rebecca's demeanor changed suddenly, concerned etched across her young features. Jill was somehow relieved that there was no resent or disdain in her gaze; there was none in Leon's either, though, but his eyes seemed a lot more severe and cold than Rebecca's. As a response, Jill shook her head.

"Neither do we, but we know what he might be up to."

Jill, as everyone else did, turned her gaze to the door, where he found Wesker with Claire and Sherry standing behind him. As the three walked in, Jill felt a pinch of awe when Wesker merely went past her as if ignoring her, but asking for a simple glance would be asking for pears out of a lemon tree. In silence, he took a seat not very near her resting spot. Sherry didn't look too troubled in spite of her creased brow, but it was Claire who mostly caught Jill's attention. Her face had hardened, her eyes were fiercer and narrowed ever so slightly, and she was tense. The tension spiked to incredible levels. Ignoring her own desire to ask, Jill stayed quiet.

"The footage recorded by the cameras shows he really did leave, as we could expect," Sherry began, propping herself against a table, "since he had his clearance. At the same time, we found something..." she pursed her lips, "abnormal in his behavior."

Leon gazed at Sherry. "Abnormal? Knowing Chris came back to life is already abnormal in itself; what else can there be?"

Sherry's lips twitched into a sad smile. "Unfortunately, a lot more, and especially knowing... how 'damaged' his mind is."

Jill shut her eyes tight and bit on her lip, listening intently, then she opened them and looked at Sherry.

"Can... anything be related to monologuing?" she inquired, standing with as much balance as she could. Whatever had happened to her, it hadn't left her with good reflexes. When she glanced at every member of the group, her attention was drawn to Wesker, who was staring at her for the first time and with the slightest hint of a frown.

"When did you first notice?" His question came quick, urgent, suspicious. Jill lifted her chin, not losing her composure, and said,

"I went to talk to him when... whenever I went. I knocked a few times on his door and after that, even maybe before that, I don't know why but I think he was talking to himself... and perhaps not just himself. I couldn't hear much but during... our conversation, after which he left, there were mood swing I had never seen in him," she explained, recalling the details as best as she could. She caught glimpse of Claire's cold gaze.

"So you _had _something to do with it?" came Claire's furious question.

"Claire," Leon called, but she rejected his warning with a scathing glance.

"No, Leon!" she snapped. "I want to set things straight now, whether it takes us hours or minutes, and I don't care how we might have to do it. I've already seen Chris freaking out many others in the past, but none of them were of the magnitude like the one in the footage. If she's responsible for what's happening to him, then she's taking care of it. I'm not saying I won't help, because I will and I want him back, but she gets the short end of the stick."

"I never said I wouldn't get it, neither did I say that I wouldn't take care of what's happened," Jill said, the calmness in her voice contrasting with the frustration in Claire's. "You know better than anyone of us that he keeps things to himself and has a lot bottled up."

"I'd like to think he might've acted some other way with you," said Sherry, shrugging slightly. "After all, you're pretty close."

Jill grimaced.

"Whatever the case, he's not as... 'readable' as we'd all like him to be," she replied, running a hand through her hair. "I don't know what's going on with him either, but I can tell you he hasn't been the same. It's not only because of irony, I'm sure you all know that by now, but of something he hasn't told me about."

"It wouldn't surprise me if it was something related to his... outburst back in Africa," Wesker piped up, surreptitiously looking at Jill over his shades. "Am I going in the right direction?" he then asked. Jill couldn't make a list of the reasons that were making him seem so enthralled, so amused by the situation. Perhaps his everlasting enmity with Chris, but that was a different song this time.

"...Yeah," Jill spoke with a nod, "something like that."

Wesker's next reaction surely puzzled everyone. He tilted his head once more, slight disbelief across his face, and said, "Oh, come now... This will seem far-fetched, despite it isn't, but this anomaly we saw _is_ a split personality disorder."

The news struck Jill hard, and like so Leon and Rebecca showed themselves to be. The only one out of the group that seemed the less distraught was Claire, who was standing right next to Leon with her arms folded across her chest and a deep frown. Rebecca also stared at Sherry, though her face was mostly of deep concern.

"My God... How?" she asked in disbelief. Sherry shook her head, to which Claire scoffed and threw her hands up in the air.

"And why do I have the feeling it all has to do with that damned virus of yours!" she exclaimed at Wesker, clenching her fists tightly in a defiant way. Jill frowned, somehow moved by how desperately Claire was trying to control herself. "Looks like there's _really NO_ rest for the wicked, right?"

A small amount of tension disappeared from Wesker's features, so did impassiveness, which then showed him to be contemptuous and amused as a smirk appeared. "Perhaps there isn't, but your accusation is wrong. Sure, it might've been my creation in the first place, but if he refused to follow the steps to keep everything under control, then it's _his _fault and no-one else's." He stood up. "I tried to... help him since it'd play in all our advantages, but he wouldn't do his share. Don't expect me to feel responsible for him because of his foolishness."

Claire sighed, ducking her head. Eventually, after pursing her lips several times, she said, "Fine, he might not be brightest sometimes... I just don't want to see him do anything stupid, that's all." When Jill watched Leon give Claire a light nudge, she smiled inwardly.

"You said you had an idea of what Chris may do next," Leon intervened, turning his attention to Sherry.

"It's more than likely that he might have gone to look for Marco," she said. "As far as we're concerned, Chris could be looking for a solution to the virus that isn't the serum."

"An actual vaccine?" Leon asked. "But who could develop it?"

"Marco, of course," Wesker claimed. "After the attempt to stop the deal that resulted in the precedent to this situation, he must've surely gotten his hands on the virus. If we consider the kind of technology Marco has and my notes on it..."

"Damn James," Sherry spat, snapping her fingers.

"I can't believe he'll actually do it," said Rebecca, shocked, "not after what Marco did to you, Claire."

"I suggest you get used to the idea," Wesker quickly cut in, "because it is more than likely that it's not just the alter's decision to have sought Marco's help."

"What do you mean?" asked Jill. She grew stiff, her eyes wide. "You're saying that after all we've gone through, he's actually changing sides now?"

When Wesker nodded, tension found its playground. Jill was mostly shocked by Claire's expression, which was a mix of anger, pain and disbelief. Jill herself sighed, lowering her head, then heard Sherry say,

"What could be more obvious than a role reversal?" Her tone was rhetorical, sad yet somehow amused, and the remark was directed at Wesker, who was more silent than a tomb. Though impassive, his demeanor had turned somber, subdued yet tense, very tense.

"Role reversal?" asked Rebecca, looking at Jill. "Do you mean-?"

"It's our natures," said Wesker, his tone hard. His remark caught everyone's attention, Jill perhaps more concerned than intrigued. As he talked, he sprung to his feet and turned his back to the group; only Jill could see him sideways. "He won't accept what he's become, so won't I, but it's the irony that kills us both. Perhaps now... he will understand."

"Understand what?" asked Claire, narrowing her eyes.

"How you feel when you're stripped of what you really are," he replied, neutral. "Call it payback, if you may."

Claire's frown deepened even more, then Leon inquired, "Can we bring him back?"

"If he lets himself. He won't go down without opposing, that you all know." Wesker seemed struck, unusually unsettled by the current situation, which led Jill to wonder whether if there was something else to his behavior. "But I have to say it won't be easy."

"What is these days?" Rebecca quipped, running a hand through her naturally short bangs. "But in truth, it's worth a try. At least that's how I see it; I don't think he'd give up on us, despite he seems very willing to do that now."

"And with that you are implying that I may lend a hand?" Wesker piped up, amusement showing through a smirk. "Don't take things for granted."

"If there's something that's characteristic of you is that you don't do things without looking at the side that may benefit you," Claire intervened, her tone scathing, "and now, I think there _is_ something too. If we get him back, you'll have a chance to kill him again."

Wesker smirked. "An attempt you will undoubtedly foil," he said naturally, which made Claire also smirk. Then, something seemed to click.

"Wait a second," she quickly began, "There was no audio to listen to when we watched the footage. How could you determine it was split personality?"

Silence ensued. Wesker remained staring at her, his features once more impassive, and Jill drew in a low, sharp breath when the hunch hit her like an alarm going off. Could it possibly be what she was thinking? Eventually, Wesker exhaled and crossed his arms as if he'd just raised a barrier to defend himself.

"Why did I suspect you'd reach that question?" he half-uttered to himself, then raised his head. "If you must know, I knew because I also went through the same stages."

Surprise struck everyone.

"Wesker..." Sherry breathed out, her blue eyes wide with concern, but Wesker dismissed it with a shake of his head.

"Trust me, it's not something easy to say."

_He just admitted he was weak. It's not like him_.

Jill frowned at him, but he didn't seem to notice. She knew he would never say something that could tarnish his name, so to speak, since he was seen as a man who had no weaknesses but at the same time had many more than the ones he'd accepted. She noticed the first traces of distress that very slightly gave his conflict away, and as such she made no comments about it. For a moment she pitied him, then wondered if the Wesker she and the others had seen all those past years had been one who was an alter ego of some sort.

"You know what's going on, then?" Claire asked, expectant.

"To extents you wouldn't dare thinking of," Wesker replied, somber. "And the strangest yet bothersome of quirks about this disorder is that it's nothing more than an auditory hallucination, like in schizophrenia, but one can't help to alter their personality according to it."

"He willingly changed?" came Leon's question as he quirked an eyebrow.

"Not exactly. It's quite difficult to explain, truth be told, but know this: it can be used to our advantage."

"How?"

Wesker seemed pensive for a moment. "In most cases, whenever the person experiences different episodes with different personalities, amnesia will follow after a swap. In Redfield's, however, the matter is different and much more complex. Speaking in general, there comes a time when you experience the changes constantly, and they are so fast-paced there is no room for any kind of abnormal forgetfulness."

"I wouldn't like to undervalue our efforts in past years," Rebecca began, "but if Chris is suffering from this kind of disorder, then it's been because of trauma. I know we've all gone through situations we wouldn't have imagined, but we've all gotten over it. Chris is strong, so you've seen, but I think there's a lot going on in his head. It has to be trauma, _severe_ trauma."

"My God..." Claire whispered, closing her eyes.

"There will also come a time when Chris will stop suffering from this constant changes, and when that time comes..." Wesker shifted, "... it'll be quite the ride."

"What will happen?" Jill asked, clenching her fists.

"For now, I don't know if he's acting on impulses or under influence -most likely on both-, but he will be what we say a ruthless killer that will know no mercy." Jill saw Wesker hesitate ever so slightly. "The side effects of all Progenitor-based viruses are mostly aggressiveness and hallucinations, but this kind of disorder is rare except certain conditions are present in the host such as, how Miss Chambers said, severe psychological trauma. That is the reason why all alter egos come knocking like a sadistic personality, with quirks that differ from person to person."

"Goddamn it, he seems impossible to bring down now," Leon complained, somehow in defeat. "Is there any way out of it?"

"There is," Wesker said, nodding, "and that is inflicting pain. Not any kind of pain, but one that fuels the effects of the trauma."

"Are you crazy?" Claire snapped, angered. "What are you trying to do, kill him for good this time? I thought you were going to help us."

"And that is exactly what I will do, since it all plays in my favor aside from yours," Wesker agreed, his tone cold. "As I was saying, inflicting pain is our only solution."

"How's that achieved? What could possible cause him more trauma?" asked Claire, tapping her foot on the floor. Wesker smiled.

"You," he said, "and Jill." Jill's eyes went even wider. "Don't be so surprised; you're only the positive kind of pain, so to speak. I'm not the best candidate, so that leaves you two."

"Why us?" Jill inquired, calm despite the revelation.

"Because you're the only two people he truly holds close, and that's speaking for him," Wesker said, surreptitiously grimacing at his own words. "You're the only ones who can ease him down. Emotional conflicts cannot be kept at bay sometimes."

"That's what you're saying that will happen?" came Jill's question. Wesker nodded. "And how're we going to find him? We don't know where he is; we have no clues."

"Well-" Sherry began, but another voice interrupted her, one that they all recognized. Even Wesker froze, and that was a feat in itself.

"Let me save you the trouble, shall I?"

Many of the present people gasped, and Claire didn't hesitate to dash out of the room. Everyone chased after her, but they didn't have to go further past the door to find Chris leaning casually against the right wall. Jill herself remained at the back of the group, reluctant, and stared at Chris intently, a knot of nervousness in her stomach. Claire stepped forward.

"Chris? Chris, please, tell me it's the real you," she pleaded, her voice mellowing.

"I know, Claire." It finally sounded like the Chris they all knew, but there was a distinctive tinge of malice in his voice. He lifted his head, grinning. "You want me back so badly, don't you? Tough luck."

"What are you doing? _Why_ are you doing this?" Claire's tone became stronger, somehow afraid, which caused Chris to chuckle aloud in a way Jill had heard before. "Don't be stupid!"

"I'm not being stupid, Claire," Chris said, "but sensible. I'm sick of all this, and the only way to put a stop to it is by changing sides. "Marco is going to give me back all that I lost and after I get it... I'm going to take the last bit away from you." Chris now talked to Wesker, who Jill watched relaxing.

"Really? How?" His tone was scathing, mocking, disdainful, but Chris wasn't fazed by that.

"In due time, I will. For now..."

Then, he was a black blur.

"CAREFUL!" Wesker bellowed as he gave a step backwards that caused everyone else to withdraw. Jill stepped forward on the contrary, and was about to place herself next to Wesker when Chris immediately took his place and sent Wesker flying with a single blow. Again, he vanished, giving Jill and the others no time to react accordingly, then pinned Wesker against the wall.

What they heard next was a scream of true agony.

Jill took everything in in a mere second: Wesker screaming, bleeding; Chris grinning madly, a knife plunged into Wesker's side, the blade gleaming dully with blood.

"THIS IS HOW I WILL DO IT!" Chris yelled out, his tone mad with malice. "And I'll do it again and again and again until THERE'S NOTHING LEFT FROM YOU, YOU BASTARD!"

"GO ON AND DO IT THEN!" Wesker yelled out in return.

Jill couldn't keep on watching. In a split second she found herself sprinting towards Chris and Wesker, but a loud gunshot forced her to stop in her tracks. Chris withdrew with another dash, which gave Jill the idea the bullet had gone for him, and she looked back: who had fired was none other than Claire, who held the gun steadily in her hands.

"Back off!" she said, pausing at the end of every word. There was silence, no reply from Chris except his incredulous look. "I won't hesitate to shoot."

"That is, if you can hit me."

With one last smile, Chris vanished, as if he had never been there in the first place.

It was then that Jill's instincts kicked in. She briskly approached Wesker, so did Rebecca and Sherry, and watched with increasing horror how profusely Wesker's wounds were bleeding. There was a deep cut across his abdomen, then a slight mark of how the knife had been lowered, and they found the weapon piercing his side entirely. At the sight of so much blood, Jill felt panic rising. Wesker was trembling, having shrunk as if to prevent anyone from touching him, but then more blood spewed from his mouth and stained the floor.

"Oh crap, he's horrible. He'll bleed out if we move him," Rebecca quickly said, assessing the situation.

"I can... move perfectly; it's... mere feet away," Wesker managed to say through bloody coughs. Jill shot an urgent look at Rebecca, who nodded and carefully brought Wesker to his feet with Sherry's help. Without causing him anymore pain, Rebecca and Sherry entered and closed the door to the medical room, leaving Jill, Claire and Leon outside.

Jill allowed herself to sit against the wall and curl up into a ball, bringing her knees up to her chest, and without caring who was there with her, she cried silently. The first thing she felt after that were Leon's arm around her shoulders.

"I'd also like to know what's going on," he said, his tone sorrowful. "But for now, responsible or not, we have to accept it."

"He's right," Claire said, a remark which made Jill lift her face to look at her. "I'm sorry about before."

"It's alright," Jill replied, "but why aren't you-?"

"Why am I not shocked or traumatized by Chris' sudden appearance and feats?" Claire finished, smirking. "Because I've quickly made up my mind. Until we find out what's going on, and I know blood runs thicker than water, he's not... Chris anymore. He's just a stranger, a killer without a remedy, but we'll help him. I won't give up on him. For now, I'll think of him as that. Consider it cruel... but it's not far from the truth."

Jill had to admit Claire's words were completely true, and in Leon's company she stayed, hoping for whatever was happening to come to an end soon.

_Chris... Please, you have to fight it; don't let it take over. God, I miss you..._


	24. Chapter XXIV: Deep

**Author's Note:** Yay, another update... xDDD 'Scuse me dry humor, but anyway: yeah, this is a true update. I'm not making this the epilogue, but the next will be. Meh, I haven't got much to say except sorry for taking so long. You'll see where this is heading and why Wesker is involved in all this from head to feet.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters, only my OCs.**

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**XXIV

Deep

_'For those whom God to ruin has designed He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind.' John Dryden_

"Consider it cruel... but it's not far from the truth."

Jill had to admit Claire's words were completely true, and in Leon's company she stayed, hoping for whatever was happening to come to an end soon.

_Chris... Please, you have to fight it; don't let it take over. God, I miss you..._

She shook her head, dried her face and remained sitting against the wall, looking intently at the door to the medical room with the ever-present hope of everything turning out well. She had seen how severely Wesker had been wounded, perhaps even fatally, but for a moment felt relief at the thought of Rebecca being with Sherry. It was then that a question came to her mind and despite her concern, she asked,

"Claire, how's it gone? These past few hours I wasn't conscious, I mean."

The younger Redfield shrugged. "For me, and I hope not for everyone else, have been hellish," she replied, somehow comical. "I've wanted to lash out at Wesker every time I looked at him or he spoke, but I have to admit that..." She sighed, "...there's not much my reactions can do. Right now, and judging by what's he's told us, we have to trust him... for now."

Leon frowned. "Disregarding the past?"

"You know me, Leon; I'm not one to cling to the past and never let it go, unlike Chris if I may say," she replied. "Don't take this as an insult to him or something like that, but you know him too. In that aspect, we're not too alike. And don't ask me why am I actually allowing this to happen because I don't have an answer for you. It's instinctive. I feel like it's the best thing to do right now."

"Just like Chris, too," Leon agreed. "I understand, though not fully. I haven't bumped into Wesker as many times as you two and Chris have," he began, "but judging by your words and attitude towards him, I wouldn't say you've gone through a lot of good experiences."

"Worse that you could've ever imagined," Jill intervened, careless. "You already know a few things about him, but Chris and I know him very well; he could say the same about us both. He knew what made us tick and he exploited that to his own interest."

"Why are you with him, then?" Claire asked. Jill feared the question would see the light, and so it had. "Just look at what you said! After all he did to you, did to Chris and me and everyone... I just- How, Jill? I don't understand."

"I don't understand myself either, let me tell you that," Jill said, looking up at Claire. She hesitated, sighing.

"Is there something you're not telling us?"

"It's something I'm thinking whether to tell you or not, Leon," Jill told him, shaking her head. "If-"

"If it's about ways of thinking and points of view, you can count on me: I will listen," Claire said, nodding her head. "As much as it shames me to admit, I have a bit of a more open mind than Chris. It's something you've noticed in... him, right?" Jill perked her head up, and Claire smiled. "Don't look so surprised; I've also noticed. I don't know what's gotten into him, but the hour or two I spent with him and Sherry actually gave me a bit of insight."

"You're saying he's different?" asked Leon, the question going for both Claire and Jill.

"Yes," said Jill. "He wouldn't have admitted something as personal as his going through what Chris is so easily. There's more to this than meets the eye, I know it."

Claire frowned. "Jill, he did horrible things to you. How do you know he's different? He could very well be playing with you again! I know I've noticed myself, but that hasn't made my distrust go away. I still also hate him, too. You should be holding a grudge against him instead of-"

"Softening, isn't that right?" Jill finished, looking down at her hands. She sighed. "I know he did; he did that and a lot more. But as everyone does, he had his reasons. He explained it to me some time ago... it's not something I should talk about."

Claire arched an eyebrow. "It does sound more personal than I thought."

Jill nodded. "It is, actually. And part of it... he hasn't even told me yet, and I don't think he ever will."

"Perhaps we'll find out ourselves," said Leon. "And if he's willing to help us, in his own way, then there's no point in refusing his offer. Call me cold, but we can advantage of this. He was the creator of the virus and on top of that, he's gone through what Chris is going now. I don't like to use the word, but Wesker is our asset now."

"In a way, he is," Jill said. "In another, he's doing it for something."

"Getting a chance of killing Chris again, I presume?" Claire added, rhetorical. "I'll be there to stop him, unless that's not a good way of saying thanks."

Jill smiled despite herself. "Perhaps it won't come down to that, let's hope. For now, we don't know what he's up to. I need to talk to him."

"He'd better not die, or else I'll be there to give him another blow," Claire remarked, clenching a fist. "This is the first time I haven't wished for him to die, you know. I'm not willing to allow him to take the answers away from us; he won't take them to the grave. I myself will pry them out if I have to."

"You're getting aggressive," Leon warned. "So far, I've seen Wesker's very willing to take up matters that interest him, be it an offer or a mere conversation, and if getting Chris back plays also in his favor, then I don't see why he should back off: he will share the information. I could be wrong, but he must be aware of that too: if he keeps it, then we're all dead. If Chris is actually turning worse than him, then being warned is the best we can be. We'll have to negotiate."

"That never sat well with you, Leon," Claire said, slightly teasing.

"Well, I'm willing to sit down and use words first instead of fists. But I can also go and follow the 'force first, questions later' philosophy," he replied, smirking. "Both ways work fine for me."

Jill smiled a little at his remark, but stayed silent. She feared cooperation wouldn't be possible; she knew both factions were reluctant to work together, both Wesker and her own friends. For a moment she thought they'd have to put differences aside and man up, but that was too inconsiderate for her to think. But even now, Rebecca was actually aiding Wesker survive his injuries, despite his strong and enhanced body, so everything could be working out step by step, even in the most unnoticeable of actions. Jill thanked her own ability to speak with prevarication. It was more than obvious Claire and the others wouldn't accept her reasons for admitting and believing Wesker was different, that he had changed in some way, given their intense hatred towards him. Hers hadn't disappeared, but had instead gone to the back of her mind, constantly reminding her of the fragility of the ice she was walking on. She could as well dance, but why risking it further?

She heard Claire and Leon fall in silence, so she didn't make any efforts to bring out any other topic. She could also hear voices coming from inside the room, but their words couldn't be made out. Was there a reason to Claire's apparent lack of distrust? Were they all actually aware of the mess they were about to get themselves into? Well, it was Chris who was involved and given everything he had done for everyone, Jill assumed it was because of a debt. Far-fetched guess, most likely, but far from being a lie. She had to have in mind that there was also Claire, who indeed had the ability to see beyond people's usual façades. With Wesker, it was probably a lot different, since he had shown himself to be the same person since the beginning of their struggle, but the fact that Chris was her brother was the only thing that drove her to cooperate; Jill had no doubts about that.

All of a sudden, Claire called, "Jill?"

"Yes?"

Jill could see her hesitating. Eventually, Claire said, "You know a bit more about this than I do, but... can people... actually prove themselves to be different than they show themselves to be?"

Jill caught sight of Leon's sudden expression of surprise and confusion, also the one of awe and sorrow of Claire's. She was surprised at her question, but didn't take long to reply to it. "They can. I hope you're not asking because of my lack of reluctance to accept Wesker's changes."

"At all," Claire said, shaking her head. "It's all because of... of Chris."

"Claire, you know that wasn't him," Leon intervened, shooting up to his feet. "You can't let yourself to be fooled by that."

"Then what do you want me to say?" Claire exclaimed, her tone higher. Her voice quivered, her eyes were teary and it was clear she had raised a barrier to protect herself against Leon's accusations; there was something she was holding onto. "I _had_ to shoot Chris, dammit, my own brother! Who knows what else will I have to do to stop him! He's-"

"-not changing, Claire! Don't you dare think about that!" Leon cut in, grabbing her by her shoulders.

Claire closed her eyes shut and turned her face away from Leon, the tears finally spilling. Jill stood up and neared her as Leon pulled her close to him and hugged her gently, Claire sobbing quietly against his shoulder. She laid her hand upon Claire's shoulder and said,

"Claire, you know your brother much more than I do. If you don't trust him, then trust me: I won't let him continue down the path he's taken. He'll be back with us."

"Ho-how can you be so sure, Jill?" Claire asked, lifting her tear-streaked face at her. Jill moved her hand up to Claire's face, cupping her cheek.

"How can you be so _unsure_ yourself?" she asked back, not unkindly. Leon looked at Jill. "If there's something you two have in common is an unrelenting and sometimes annoying stubbornness, but that can also mean there's strength. I know Chris wouldn't give up, not when... he's got something to lose."

"What's he got to lose now?" Claire uttered, her tone angry. "You saw him back there; I don't think he gives a damn about us."

Jill sighed. "I know, I also saw it. But I wasn't talking about us."

"What do you mean then?" Leon inquired instead of Claire as they separated.

"I mean that what he has to lose isn't us, but himself," Jill replied with grief, her tone heavy. "If he's doing what he's doing because he wants to get his humanity back, then he also has all of you as a pretext. But if we look at it the other way... he wants to be himself again. His role and Wesker's have been reversed now, which is something that's really gotten to him. I've... had to smack some sense into him many times, but he can't stand it any longer."

"He's doing it for us?"

"If we were to narrow it down, it'd be most likely for you, Claire." She drew in a sharp breath. Jill said, "I don't know whether he's got a reason for what he's doing, but if he has... he's placing you as his priority. I barely know him as well as to make such a guess, but that'd be my bet."

Claire stared at Jill, disbelief across her features, then went from Leon to Jill and pulled her into a tight embrace. Jill responded to Claire's gesture as reassuringly as she could so as to instill confidence in her again. If they misplaced their faith, they'd be lost.

After an unknown period of time, the door to the medical room opened and outside stepped Rebecca, her demeanor indicating there was nothing to worry about. She approached them with a very light smile, one she seemingly was trying to keep from appearing, and said,

"It's all turned out fine; there's nothing else to worry about. Perhaps unfortunately, he's gonna make it." Then, she chuckled. "You didn't expect him to die so soon, did you, Claire?"

"Nah, I didn't. You know cockroaches don't die the first time they're stomped on," she shot back with a very light tinge of humor. Jill caught Claire's short glance and nodded.

"Sherry's inside with him; he should be left to rest. Not for long, I suppose, but he still needs it," Rebecca said, clasping her hands together. She looked at Claire. "Are _you_ okay?"

Jill saw how Leon frowned slightly at Claire, who nodded and looked down at her feet.

"You mean, what I had to do before?" she asked back, then fixing a cold stare upon Rebecca. "I'm fine about that, no need to worry. No shock, no trauma, no sense of guilt. I knew I had to do it, even though I was about to graze his neck. You know the first one's a warning."

Rebecca seemed disappointed by Claire's tone and response, but then nodded. "Alright, then we should all try and calm down... even though I'm a real handful right now." Jill looked at Rebecca's hand, which she saw trembling.

"Rebecca, is everything okay?"

Rebecca blinked rapidly and several times, then nodded as she swallowed. "Yeah, I think so. It's just that... I've actually dealt with severely injured patients sometimes, but I had never seen something like I have just now." She caught Jill's inquiring look. "We could've made fillets out of him; the knife just went in _so _deep... a-and it didn't seem like it! I don't think it was our expertise that helped us close his wounds, but a miracle. Thank whoever's up there he hadn't lost his rapid-healing abilities."

Jill's gut clenched with anguish. "Indeed, he thankfully didn't lose them. I didn't know about them, if he'd lost them or not, but I'm glad I know now."

"He's awake and, according to him, he doesn't need any rest," came Sherry's voice from the door. They turned, found her at the threshold with her arms crossed and a small frown across her face. "He seems just peachy."

Claire nodded. "Then I guess we should take this chance to talk to him. There's something that's _really_ bothering me and I hope he has an answer for it." Ipso facto, she started her walk towards the room. Jill followed suit, catching up to her, then they entered the room. Wesker noticed them immediately, proving Sherry's words, but he still had that cold demeanor of his when looking at Jill. She made no comment or movement to that, but she took her time to examine him. Only a rim of his bandages was in sight, he wasn't as pale as before and he seemed about to stand up and walk again, something he would've done if it wasn't for his still labored and rough breathing.

"It didn't work," Claire suddenly stated, not even waiting for everyone to settle in. "He saw us both, he didn't react in any of the ways you had told us he would. What's going on?"

Wesker took his time to reply. "It didn't work... because it still has to get worse than that."

"What do you mean by that?"

"By that, I mean he's in a very early stage; seeing you didn't affect him at all, which means that, in a way, he's still stable. On the other hand... look where it got _me_, and that means he's not... cracking yet."

"Cracking?" asked Leon.

"Unless the person comes to terms with his or her personalities," Rebecca began, "something that is _really_ uncommon without treatment, he'll start cracking in the literal sense of the word. It won't be long for Chris to start reacting other ways."

"Quite on the spot," said Wesker, "and when that time comes, you'll start influencing his behavior. In what ways... it all varies from person to person; they're unpredictable. The changes I mentioned earlier... are... starting to happen."

Jill grew stiff at the sudden look of pain that flashed across Wesker's features, and another one of anxiety flashed across Rebecca's. "How do you know about that? It's impossible..."

"We all know Chris quite well," Wesker began. "As such, we should all know-"

"There's no way he could've reacted so differently in such a short time," Jill finished for him, putting two and two together in less than a millisecond. "Think about it: the sadistic tendencies... and the change. Now that I remember... his-his voice tone also varies with the personality that's taken over."

"So the one before the outburst was actually Chris?" Claire asked, her eyes growing wide. "But why? I don't get it: he's supposed not to remember _anything _the other personality did before!"

"They all interact differently with the environment! Amnesia was inevitable; you yourself said that, Wesker," Rebecca pointed out, frowning and looking at him somehow pointedly. Wesker, whose eyes were perfectly visible, looked at her. Jill shivered when she saw his blue hues once more.

"But didn't I also say there would be no room for any kind of... ugh, forgetfulness?" he asked. "Moreover, he's hallucinating. If there's something we cannot get rid of, that's instinct. That's our last resort when logic doesn't... doesn't kick in." He swallowed hard. "It always... happens."

"So we have to wait for now?" Rebecca asked, growing uneasy and shifting her stance. Wesker nodded.

"Yes, for some time. It's not until... the disorder has settled that... that we can actually break him down. That's... that's our only choice so far," he said, apparently finding it more difficult to breathe. Jill grew even stiffer, alert, but Wesker seemed to overcome it.

"If you've been through something similar..." Claire began, "can you tell us about what's going through his mind? Actions follow a certain pattern when it comes to different personalities, so to speak, so perhaps you know something about that."

"Perhaps..." Wesker said, leaving his answer to hang in the air. "I'll surely have to... share some information about that but... not yet. It's still... too early."

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Sherry asked, talking for the firs time in the whole conversation. "Looks like we should the subject for now, guys. We got enough room for all of you, so you shouldn't have any trouble staying here whilst we leave."

"Leave? Where?" asked Jill.

"It will be a matter of time until we track Marco and Chris down. If we find them, we move closer."

Leon shifted. "Wouldn't that scare them away? Make them flee?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"No," said Wesker. "They wouldn't get what they seek if they did that. It'd be a... a pointless goose chase. If we move... they'll stay where they are."

"And that'd get us closer to Chris," uttered Rebecca, becoming pensive.

"That clearly hints at some kind of ambush or trap. He's luring us, waiting for us to take the bait," Leon countered, frowning. "But I think this is a matter we're willingly getting deep into, so if we have to wait, we'd better gather up some patience."

"No disagreement here," Jill spoke with a nod. "I suppose we should take it easy from now on, or else we won't last. I suggest we get some rest; it'd do some good."

For a moment and for some reason she couldn't get to list, Jill had the feeling Wesker's eyes were upon her, but she didn't bother to make sure; instead, she stood up, shared a look with everyone, which made Rebecca say,

"I agree. I don't think there's much we can do now."

And like so, with a strange sensation of relief, uneasiness and anxiety, everyone save for Jill and Sherry left the room and seemingly waited outside because when Jill stayed inside, she didn't notice any kind of movement coming from the rest of the people. Sherry looked at her, smiling slightly, and said,

"Rebecca might've told you by now, but he's doing fine. Perhaps he'll appreciate some company, if he can do that."

Jill cracked a smile of her own at the tinges of humor in Sherry's voice, then watched the young blond also exit and leave them both alone, closing the door behind her. Jill remained in silence, took a seat next to the bed also as silently as she could and kept a close eye on Wesker, whose expression made her widen her smile. He had apparently -and quite apparently- dozed off whilst nobody was looking, swiftly taking advantage of his convalescence, but she could see past that. As if on cue, he stirred, looked around as he breathed in deep, and Jill averted her gaze from him. He then said,

"You should also go."

"Is that actually concern?" Jill asked, amused, as she leaned back in the chair. "I'm alright. I just wanted to have a look at you, that's all."

Wesker remained staring up ahead, but still smirked. "You sound as if I was a mere subject."

"You know what I mean," she protested, frowning, "and please do avoid that kind of humor. It gives me the creeps just thinking about it."

"I know it's nothing to be taken lightly, but that's precisely why I'm this... dark about the whole matter," Wesker remarked, facing her. Jill reluctantly met his gaze for a brief moment of silence. "May I ask how you're faring or will you chastise me for that, too? …no false answers."

Jill pursed her lips, sighing, and shook her head. "Can I be honest or will you use a witty comeback for everything I say?" At this, Wesker once more smirked with amusement.

"It depends on what you're expecting," he simply said, moving under the sheets. "What _I_ expect is an honest answer, as I always did but not many times I received."

Jill detected something behind his words, yet made no comment about it. Instead, she said, "I'm... still a bit shaken: that's my honest answer." She sighed again. "I see no heads or tails to it."

"It will have them, with time," Wesker replied, then he was the one to sigh. "What a reunion..."

"How did everyone manage to adapt so easily?"

"Easily, you say?" he echoed, almost laughing. "You should've been with us to find amusement in Claire's reactions. I have to admit," he then added, his tone turning serious, "that it wasn't what I expected."

"How so? What did you tell them?" Jill asked, intrigued. "Persuasive skills?"

Wesker sat up, either ignoring his injuries or not feeling any pain at all anymore. "You might like to rephrase that: what did _they_ tell _me_."

"I get it," Jill said, nodding. "Everyone satisfies their interests. It's like a symbiotic relationship now, for all of us. We wouldn't be able to get Chris without you two..."

Wesker closed his eyes. "I'm not particularly fond of the idea, to be honest and realistic, but it's our only chance. At what, we'll find along the way."

Jill searched for his gaze, hesitated for a moment before asking, "There's something more to this than you let on, isn't there?" Wesker's next sideways glance made Jill bite her tongue, but she overcame the hesitation: she had to know. "Something's nagging you, isn't it?"

"It's much more complicated than that," he replied, his tone cold and hard. Jill hardened her face in hopes of prying some words out of him.

"You never looked for self-pity, right? You yourself told me that once, remember?" she claimed, her brow creasing deeply. "Then why don't you just tell me and get it over with? Can't you share your thoughts for once?" She took deep breaths, as though she'd just run a marathon, and stared at Wesker, waiting for an answer that surely wouldn't come. When he made no comment and apparently was ignoring her, Jill sighed and let her head fall forward. Silence came next.

"He makes me sick."

Jill perked up her head, surprised at the fact of hearing Wesker's answer come quick and sincerely. She blinked several times, registering what she'd heard.

"What?"

"He makes me sick, and literally," Wesker repeated, his tone even deadlier than before, and Jill watched how he unconsciously laid a hand on his stomach. "He's taken so much from me and I've never been able to take it back: I've always taken even more from him in retaliation. Everything is upside down and seeing him like this is... torture. It's like staring into an empty void, like watching your own reflection in a mirror dance madly in front of you, mocking you, prompting you..." He clenched a fist in unseen anger. "If I'm cooperating with all of you it's for one sole reason: to get to him and see him suffer. It will be then that I'll take everything back, all that which I formerly possessed."

Jill frowned as a shiver ran down her spine. Was it... envy? Had he just let her see into the deepest corners of his self? Pensive, she mused upon his words like there was no end to time. She felt compelled to retort, to defend Chris as she had always did because of their long friendship, but she also had to consider how it felt to be stripped of all you had and held close to yourself. She wouldn't be able to get herself inside Wesker's shoes completely, since she and he were worlds apart, but imagining how he was feeling was an easy task. Envy was a natural emotion in man, no matter what. There was always a time when you desired something with an ardent passion, only to see you lack it and others have it, and that spawned envy, rage and enmity. She had no doubt something analog to that kind of situation was happening between Wesker and Chris, since the former's hate was derived from that desire. Of what Wesker was trying to recover, Jill had a hint.

"But..." he added, then letting out a long sigh, "...that would mean sacrificing something, obviously."

"... what would you have to sacrifice?" Jill asked, tentative.

"..."

No response. Jill turned her head away in defeat, aware that there would be no way to get the truth out of him if it involved his having to disclose some sensitive detail about himself. But then, she heard him disclose the answer to her hesitant question.

"You."

It came as a complete shock, as heavy as the weight of the world upon her shoulders. Jill's eyes widened, snapping her head at him, whom she found looking at her this time with amusement and resignation in a curious and odd combination. Jill's breath caught in her throat, finding herself unable to reply, and then the realization was hammered into her mind painfully, slowly, each blow of the hammer heavier and stronger than the previous one. With the same resignation that lived within his eyes, Wesker turned his head away.

"Certainly, I can't afford that. It wouldn't play in my favor, you see."

"Ooh, yeah... always talking about interests."

"You should've known better, Jill; I never change my way of seeing things."

"Well," Jill began, shrugging, "you never tried to."

"You're getting your way with me, don't you see?" he asked, his tone brightly amused. Jill gathered her wits and said,

"I'm not trying too hard. Either it's a bit of a quirk I have or you're unusually subdued this time. Why are you telling me this now?"

Wesker raised an eyebrow, their gazes meeting again. "Because you asked?"

"I can't believe you let it out so quickly," Jill replied, sporting a light smirk. "You would've stayed silent, never to let the truth show. Knowing you, that's something that won't change. But..."

"Something you're keeping to yourself?"

"Perhaps you _are_ changing," she suggested, not breaking eye contact.

"There are sacrifices in everything, including fooling death for the second time," Wesker said. "And I take it there's no need for explanations, am I right?"

Jill nodded. "No need. I just... want to know, that's all."

He chuckled, humorless. "You will with time, given how persistent you are."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she shot back, smirking. Changing her tone, she asked, "Back to the topic in question... how will we get to Chris?"

Wesker's impassiveness returned. "Sherry and her team are excellent at their job, or so she's told me. Besides, it will be easy to find them; they won't give us too much trouble."

"How do you know?"

"Let's be hypothetical for a moment. If this supposedly efficient vaccine against Uroboros is being in development _and_ will be involved in all this, then I'm sure Marco will turn to the nearest lab to keep going with it. There's also the scenario of his undying vendetta against me... If Chris and Gionne are going to work together to bring me down, then I suspect they'll keep themselves as close to us as possible. After all, the quieter things are, the better for them... and us, of course."

"And what's left of the BSAA, too."

"If he had some common sense, then he'd stay as he is."

"Unless he wants to set up a diversion or a trap."

"It's all a trap in itself, a plan within a plan," Wesker countered. "There may even come a time when we'll hold each other at gunpoint, all of us... Not recommendable, though, but likely."

"He'll use us, no doubt," Jill said, scoffing. Wesker's next look came hard.

"If there's something Marco lacks, that's the ability to manipulate people. I know him, somehow, and I know he wouldn't go down the same path as Excella... unless circumstances required it. The other side of the coin is that he will manipulate _events_ to his own accord, and that'll be his tool when raising havoc. It wouldn't surprise me if he raised plain Pandemonium," he explained, his tone strong. "There's nothing like a good source of information, which you can tweak to your own favor. He has it and he'll use it, no doubt."

"Just like when he did with the trial... He manipulated all the evidence we had against Tricell and... you, too," Jill said, remorse lingering in her voice.

"Ah, how times change, don't they?" Jill cocked an eyebrow at his remark. "At ease; you know me... or so you claim to, right?" He sighed. "But all this theorizing will get us nowhere if we don't have that to base it on, so I'll follow your suggestion."

"Still, we should have it in mind."

"Quite true; never turn your back to the enemy."

"Surprising, coming from you."

"I never did that myself, mind you. One more thing..."

"Yes?" Jill asked.

"If this gets bad, it will undoubtedly go to worse," Wesker claimed, smirking. Jill frowned.

"You sure are pessimistic sometimes."

Wesker chuckled again. "A pessimist is a well-informed optimist. Never forget that."

Jill scoffed. "Duly noted; I'll keep it mind."

Silence followed Jill's words, Wesker turned his gaze up front and Jill let hers drop to the floor, which she remained staring at for the next few seconds. Her innards made a somersault: she was intensely worried about the two people she held the closest, feeling that they were drifting away from her. Despite the light-hearted sections of her conversation with Wesker -something highly unusual-, her concern wouldn't disappear. Perhaps getting along with your worst enemy -_Now our greatest ally_- was quite the fact to rejoice in, but not even that would help make things easier. In defeat, sorrow and spiking anxiety, Jill sighed.

But then, just when it seemed it'd all reach unconceivable levels, Jill felt Wesker's hand upon hers, gently taking it in his grasp. In a way, she knew it wasn't meant to be comforting, but she nevertheless accepted it and entangled her fingers in his. All of this without looking at each other; there was no need to. He was cold but warm at the same time... But the biggest question was: was he actually lending her some support?

When Wesker smirked, Jill received her answer to both of her questions: Wesker was taking it personally.

Summing everything up, it went even deeper than Jill could imagine.


	25. Epilogue I: Out Of Control

**Author's Note:** Right, I finally bring a new update and this epilogue's gonna go into three parts, perhaps an extra if I get to write it. I'll divide it in Wesker's, Jill's and Chris' epilogues, then the final one with a surprise character if things go nicely and I can get to write again. I say this because of a certain situation that will be explained in my profile; if you'd so kindly visit it, you'll be informed. Now, let's see if you can get over how this update goes, because this overshadows a big deal that's gonna go on in the sequel, which WILL be written, God hold me witness. It'll take its time, but I hope I can get the first update by October. Enjoy the read!^^

**Disclaimer: I do now own Resident Evil or any of its characters.**

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XXV:

Epilogue I: Out of control

_The mirror shattered... **"You won't serve us for any purpose at all!"**…__A look in the mirror was all he needed to know what he was made of... **"Don't do this! He's just a child!"**... He knew he could change, he knew he could feel... **"Perhaps he'll do some good..."**... The pieces fell at his feet, pieces of a broken mirror, a broken reflection... **"Take me back! Where are my parents?"**... Pain cometh, Death's red-cloaked emissary... **"No room for mistakes! Learn that well, boy!"**... Empathy's corruption is inevitable... **"I didn't know you were **_**that**_** good. Anyway, I'm William, William Birkin."**... Feeling is tantamount to dying... **"You'll know with time..."**... Emotions must be hidden..._

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_Fear._

Hearing that word inside his mind was what made Wesker snap back to reality from a dark, empty slumber. His eyes quickly adjusted to the blackness of the room, his sense of hearing to the deafening silence that invaded it, and his ego to the harsh blow the dream had dealt. Was that all it had been? A dream? A sigh came to break the silence: weakness haunted him even in his dreams. Whether the reason was his acceptance of its existence or his attempts to ignore it and banish it, he didn't know. Once he thought of that, he noticed how well he had decided to accommodate himself, since his feet -and he was still with his footwear- were placed up on the small table in front of him, and how his body felt rested for the first time in weeks. Ironic; the least the position could've given him was a sore neck.

With that, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shrugged off his initial sleepiness with a light stretch of his body, hearing how his knee cracked as he did it. The injuries in his abdomen bothered him no more, and Wesker didn't know it it had been because of the passing of time or Sherry's medical skills combined with his willpower.

It had been two days since the event that had changed the course of their lives, two days since he'd coined a new meaning for pain. It frustrated him to see himself so vulnerable; what had driven him to warn everyone about Chris' incoming attack? He could've just kept quiet and pretend nothing was happening, leave the others to their our fate, but something had forced him to do that. Because of that, he had taken the damage; he had been the one whose weaknesses had been exposed, not the others. Now he had no arguments to defend himself with: it was crystal clear that he was once more vulnerable, once more...

_Weak? _He thought as he glanced at his hand. A bizarre thought flashed through his mind: how come that with that thin and seemingly fragile hand of his he had grasped power beyond limits, taken so much away, done so many things, all of them vile and cruel? Because in truth, the next thing that was fragile -aside from his eyes- were his hands: his fingers were long and thin, qualities tantamount to fragility, but they nevertheless had helped him take many things for himself. Of course, there always came a time when there was always so much one could take. Perhaps... the grasp on what he'd obtained was slipping.

Wesker dismissed the thought with a shake of his head and stood up, raking a hand through his hair. And like always, some of his locks remained untamed, framing his forehead. He lifted his head up to the mirror and stared at his reflection or what little bit he could see of it. With a sense of determination, he ran his fingers over his unprotected scars, making another mental note of why payback was inevitable. The newly-restored skin was smooth in spite of the initial feeling of roughness to it, fact which reminded him of when he'd first been impaled by the Tyrant. Such bitter memories... memories to which he smirked. It was all so far away now they were a mere laugh.

His mind drifted to the person that had inflicted the almost fatal wounds: Chris. Instinctively, his face curled up in a grimace of disdain and resent as an uncontrollable surge of rage flared up inside him, a surge that shook him to his very core. In the midst of all that rage was sorrow or something akin to it; there was also... despair, an emotion he hadn't felt in years. It all grew worse as seconds passed: nothing could make him calm down this time... nothing but his vivid and always-working imagination, which lead him to believe nothing but victory against Chris was in his way. Comforting thoughts, those could be, but still bizarre and unreal. And suddenly snapping out of his silent outburst, Wesker clasped his head with both hands and shrank, his eyes wide open in disbelief at the horrible flurry of emotions that was overcoming him.

"Just make it stop... It's not fair..."

_Nothing's fair in this world._

"I'm losing it, I'm losing it... I can't allow that," Wesker uttered to himself, straightening and beginning to shake. "I-I can't control myself... Am I not myself anymore, despite all the times I've convinced myself that way?"

Wesker himself knew they were irrational questions, asked out of a despicable feeling of misery and despair and last, but not least, his own envy. Admitting it in front of Jill was a trivial part of what he truly harbored inside, as it tended to happen.

_It's all piling up... I can't take it any longer... but I HAVE TO! I'm-_

"I'm losing it... My grip on myself is slackening... No, no..."

_Stop the irrational thoughts! Come to your senses! Take hold of the reins again! You've got control!_

"You just have to pull harder."

As if it were an inflection, something Wesker was well aware of, his tone had changed: his voice was his old voice, the one tinged with malice, greed and coldness. A low chuckle came from his throat, a chuckle that transformed into a laugh full of humour and self-rejection.

"What are you doing? What am _I_ doing, in any case? I knew emotions wouldn't work with me; why did I try to give in into them? I'm foolish, that's what I am, and that was always part of myself..."

Wesker smiled, sudden calm washing over him; the shakes were all gone, so were the irrational thoughts and other odd sensations.

"_You know he's not responsible for his actions now!"_ He remembered Jill telling him this and that with the hope he'd reach a realization, a conclusion, but that moment hadn't and wouldn't come any time soon. _His_ own moment had come to settle the scores.

_That may be so, Jill, but as they _all_ say..._

"Payback's a bitch."

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_A/N: An epilogue short as *beep!* but anyway, let's keep it simple. I know epilogues can't be really long or really short, so this goes inbetween. I wouldn't like to go over 4,000 words with an epilogue, to be honest, so I want to keep it short. Bear with me, the next part will come as soon as humanly possible; I'm at my limit here._

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	26. Epilogue II: Heart

**Author's Note: **Despite what I say in my profile and my last AN, I am able to post another epilogue. I've decided that if I keep this on hiatus at such little steps away from finishing it, it'd be an unforgivable sin. The next prologue will come tomorrow, just to give a bit of margin, and then it's over. The sequel's on the works, people, and it will come. Epilogue, again, is short xD

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters.**

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XXVI

Epilogue II: Heart

_First steps are always the hardest... **"Hi then, Chris Redfield."**... It will always hurt yet make you stronger... **"Well, I know of someone who's gotten his ass handed to him by a girl on the training course today!"**... Forward until the end... **"C'mon, we can do this!"**... Even the deepest of wounds will heal... **"Aren't you tired of fighting?"**... Unwittingly involved... **"We can't let them get away with this."**... An ever-present shadow looms over them... **"****He's still out there."**... Death reaches out, cold and ruthless... **"NOO!"**... Captive as a caged bird... **"Let me go!"... **Your will to live must stay strong..._

_Pain._

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**August 31st, 2009**

Despite her confidence, Jill was no less afraid of what was coming.

As she stared ahead at the horizon, she couldn't stop thinking about all she had and hadn't been told. Like her, the rest of her friends shared her uneasiness and fear, but lo and behold selfishness' presence, she was tempted to think they wouldn't be feeling as she was. Not only she was tied to Chris because of their lifelong friendship, but also because of something that went even deeper than love itself. The prospect of losing him was dreadful, no matter if his only task as of late was making her suffer and grieve over a lost person, the person she was trying desperately to get back. She couldn't let the tension to continue rising; it was beyond the unacceptable. The worst part of all was she wouldn't be losing him to someone else, but to _himself_. If everything Wesker had said was true -and now, it'd be reckless to distrust him- and enough time went by for Chris to change completely, then the battle and the war were lost.

She was surprised at the bitter irony of the situation. If they were actually on fate's bad side and everything turned out as expected, they'd be granting Wesker his long-sought victory: to separate them, to make them weaker without one another, to make them vulnerable and open to any kind of attack; then, it'd be a matter of time until one of them was dead. But the question was: was there any reward behind it right now? According to Wesker's own words, killing Chris would be getting everything back he'd been stripped from, but it would also require a sacrifice it seemed he wasn't very willing to make. She also knew he was taking it personally, perhaps beyond that, so only God knew what he would do to settle the scores.

For a moment, she feared the worst. Judging by the situation, would he turn back to his old ways? A terrifying thought, certainly, given all the change he'd gone through since their first meeting several months ago. Jill knew Wesker didn't cope well with improvisation, but would he really take the risk and balance the scales as they progressed? Whatever his methods, though, he'd always be one step ahead of them. If he was indeed considering the prospect, then it would be like facing the old times once more and despite possessing the experience and skill against him, therein lay the problem: Wesker was more than a fast thinker. He would outmaneuver her every strategy and come up with a better one of his own. If that happened, and if Jill lost both him and Chris to the skeletons they kept in the closet, hers would be just rattling again to remind her of a past life not forgotten.

In deep concern, Jill lowered her head, her eyes closed. Nothing barely made sense anymore, not even her life. With a long sigh, she looked up at the sky.

"You've been hard to find," came Leon's voice from behind her. "Afraid we'll infect you with something?"

Jill turned and smiled. "If it's the flu, then I can put up with it," she teased, sounding as convincing as she could. Leon chuckled and stepped up to her, somehow keeping his distances. She knew that, though he barely showed it, Leon could get to be a sensitive person, not to mention perceptive, and it was likely that he was hesitant to make another approach. Jill smiled inwardly at that.

"Anything you're not sharing with us?" he then asked as if on cue. He was pensive, almost curious. "We're quite the bundle of nerves ourselves down there, you know. No need for isolation."

Sincere, Jill nodded. He didn't deserve to be kept in the dark. "It's just... well, I'm worried, that's it. About a lot of things..."

"Would I be too nosy if I asked about them?"

"Just... how everything is turning out," Jill replied. "I. Just. Hate. Standing here without doing nothing..." she said, emphasizing her every word, but then sighed. "We're doing all we can, I know, but waiting here is senseless. Are we waiting for something like what happened two days ago? I wouldn't allow it."

Leon smirked. "You wouldn't, alright. To be honest, I just get it wanna get it over with, but rushing it won't help. For now, it's keeping a bit of a low profile, keeping tabs on Marco."

Jill nodded. "You're right." She sighed again, this time heavier. "I fear losing everything I've stood up for until now."

"I get the feeling," Leon said, giving her a sideways glance. "But knowing how headstrong you can be, what makes you think you'll lose it?"

"Since when did you have _this_ much confidence in me, Leon?" Jill asked, genuinely worried and somehow angry. She met his gaze fully, looking for an answer in it. "I know you. I know you place a lot of confidence in people after choosing them carefully, but why am I your pick this time? And the curious thing is, you seem to trust me even more than everybody else does. Why?"

Once more, she felt almost breathless, felt like a small child arguing with his parents, but also in her write to be snappy. Not that she didn't know Leon well enough, but it was strange that somebody like him would act in such a way towards her. In the end, after the silence, he said,

"Because you love him, Jill, that's why." He turned his gaze away. "And you know that can take you to lengths friendship wouldn't. Of course, it's obvious you're cool-headed enough to think things well before doing them right off the bat, sometimes unlike me, but..."

"But?"

"The best thing is you've been more influential on him than anyone of us," Leon continued, nodding. "More than Claire, even. He hasn't kept in touch with her for a long time, given the precariousness of some situations, but Chris has been with you practically his and your whole life. Isn't that enough to think otherwise?"

Jill was left pensive, partly touched and partly annoyed by Leon's words. But he was right, after all, despite not knowing her as much as the rest of her friends. Well, he _was_ perceptive for some reason, right? She looked at him, eyes slightly narrowed, and he looked surprised.

"Have I said something I shouldn't have?"

Jill shook her head. "At all; you've hit a bit of a spot, in fact. I just... I just hope you're right, Leon, and that you haven't misplaced your confidence."

"Don't be an idiot. I know I've made the right choice when it's come to trusting you."

"Oh?" Jill inquired, nudging him with a smirk. She felt in a better mood after talking to him, better than any other time. "How are you so sure, Leon?"

The reply she was expecting didn't came. Instead came another one that left her touched and with the realization that he indeed trusted her completely, as if they had known each other since young. At the same, it was one that would keep her going, no matter what the dampers.

"Why? Because Chris told me."

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_A/N: Next prologue: coming Monday 6th._

_Reviews (and sincere) are appreciated!^^_


	27. Epilogue III: Power

**Author's Note: **Well, things are getting back to normal as soon as humanly possible, and I find myself being able to type down the third prologue and the ending to DoU. I can't write the fourth and special epilogue because of time issues but it will come as the second part of the prologue in the sequel, titled "Symphony of Madness". With this, I put an end to "Dawn of Uroboros", a story that's been going on since February/March this year and that it's gotten hundreds of hits and alerts, which I thank everyone for. It's been a great ride for me and I hope it's been the same for all of you. Thank you for all the reviews and let's celebrate my first full-length FINISHED project. Love you guys and thanks for sticking by me all this time!^^

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters.**

Note: It is very possible (I plan on doing so) that "Symphony of Madness", the sequel to this story, will be published by late September/early October; I have no date fixed for it. Drafts are still on my notebook, soon to be written down. I hope to see you around by that time!^^

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XXVII

Epilogue III: Power

_It is in man's nature to be good; society corrupts him...** "Well, I'm the new one here. Jill Valentine."**... Determination leads you to your goal... **"Heh, what can go wrong this time? We're pros, remember?"**... Seek and ye shall find... **"You son of a bitch!"**... One blow after the other, it never ends... **"We keep going..."**... Sometimes wishing for death is inevitable... **"He's still out there..."**... An endless tunnel with no light... **"We'll make it through this, Jill, I promise..."**... One step behind your enemy... **"He's still ahead of us! It's no use, Chris!"**... Giving up is sometimes the better choice... **"Let's do this, for everyone, for us."**... Lacking means is tantamount to failing..._

_Power._

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Day had never been his favorite part of the day, if the repetition could be excused. Night, on the other hand, was when he felt more comfortable: the inability to see gave him some kind of odd reassurance, and the typical night cold was soothing against his skin. It was when his mind was at most ease, no thoughts or images to vex it, nothing to cloud his judgment. It made his mind wander off and his thoughts trail off into nothingness, allowing his imagination to soar. Night was his time, his playground, his haven. But that didn't his loyal companion -not to be considered any less annoying- from knocking on his mind's door and enticing him with the most tempting of ideas... Some of them were already on his agenda.

_**How long are you going to stay here? We have business still pending.**_

Such a familiar yet distant voice. Chris had become used to hearing -as his second other had put it- his own thoughts, only with a different tinge. Many times had he wondered if it was a mere figment of his imagination, caused by the after-effects of Uroboros, the retched virus that had taken everything away from me. But in the words of that voice, of Christopher, it was 'everything you want me to be. Change yourself and you change me'.

"I know," he said, "but I need some time for myself, too. I still have to make my choice." As he thought and talked, he prowled around the rooftops of Vancouver, almost chilled to the bone and under a starry sky. He heard a chuckle in his mind.

_**Choice? What choice? I think everything is clear enough already.**_

"Marco's offer," Chris replied, crossing his arms. He leaped from one rooftop to the next one in front of him, landing swiftly with new-gained agility. "He wants me to take care of a few bothersome but not-so-innocent souls at Tricell and the BSAA, and I'm not that sure about them. I don't think it's the best thing to do, if you get my meaning."

_**Mhm, yes. Whilst you can go on with Tricell out of the way, you have your doubts about the BSAA?**_

"I don't want them on my back." Chris frowned, rubbing his chin.

_**Any special reason?**_ The voice was mocking, amused.

"None, just caution." Chris shook his head. "I don't want any trouble beyond dealing with Tricell. For them, I'm a mere ghost, a memory long forgotten."

_**I wouldn't be so sure. You were the most respected of them, weren't you?**_

"Perhaps, but not when it turns out that my worst enemy claimed his victory." He sighed. "Whatever, forget it."

_**Still harbor a personal vendetta against them?**_

"At all," he replied, shaking his head. "Have in mind I'm in charge of the boy, Vithar, and it's that sudden change that's giving me a bad feeling. Marco doesn't want anything unexpected to happen; he still doesn't trust me."

_**You don't trust him either, don't you? Let's consider he's quite reluctant to hand something as valuable as a vaccine to you right off the bat. What if, hypothetically, make it out of this without it? **_

"Then I suppose I'll have to live on with my condition, despite it's got its good points."

_**Hm... Do you plan on taking care of Wesker any time soon? He's more than wiling to take you on again, you know. It wouldn't be surprising if he was taking this personally.**_

"He hates me, I hate him; it's that simple." Then, at the obviousness of the question and the single thought of killing Wesker, Chris laughed. "I'll do it soon enough... but it will be quick. No more games."

_**Heh, as I expected. The best option would be to send them a hint then, if you want it to be swift. Anonymous, of course, but a hint nevertheless. When we move again, finally establish our op center, then we'll do it. I suppose there are no suggestions against it?**_

"None."

_**Speaking of action, what about Jill?**_

Chris stiffened at the mention of her name. He took his two main fingers to his lips, somehow missing his name on her lips, how they so ardently had kissed his own so many times, caused by the fact of having fallen in love with her -_**And head over heels, too.**_-, but there had been no good intentions behind her gestures; it had all been to fool him. If that had been the case, then why the genuine joy when she saw him alive after months of coma? Jill was somebody who lied very few times, not to mention they were noticeable from miles away, so what had she based her actions on?

_Perhaps I still miss her. Perhaps I'm not so willing to hurt her despite all that I feel. She betrayed me... How can I overlook that? _

_**Still wondering about that, Chris? Haven't you left her behind yet? She's hurt you, she deserves your actions against her. **_

"She's someone I love, don't you understand?"

_**I do understand, and perfectly. Every feeling you feel comes amplified hundred-fold, and love is one of the most bitter feelings humans can ever get to experience. It's not something you cannot live with, though.**_

Chris sighed, rubbing at his eye. "I miss her, I can't help it. I can't believe she's destroyed everything we've stood up for, but I _still_ miss her."

_**I have to say Wesker may've been right. Emotions are tethers, invisible yet still tethers, chains that keep you from moving on. This guy knows how to think.**_

"Don't you dare say his name!" Chris bellowed, turning around as if there was someone to shout at. He clenched his teeth, anger blooming within him and threatening to render him unable to think rationally. Nothing was more irritating than hearing Christopher -_himself_- agreeing with those beliefs he had rejected his entire life. He had received proof of how necessary emotions were in human nature; they were the fire that melted the ice. "How can you agree with him? If he rejects emotions, it's because he fears them! He doesn't know how to face change!"

_**No need to get mad, Chris. I'm just saying, that's all. But you have to admit you may have to think your choice twice. There are emotions not worth experiencing.**_

"I've already felt everything," Chris snapped, closing his fist. "I have no regrets. I've made my choice, and she's made yours. The heart of the matter is Jill is going to pay for hers. I'll give her no quarter for what she's done to me."

_**And what will you do once you get your humanity back?**_

"That is _if_ I want to get it back," Chris claimed, turning on his heel and looking up at the sky with a crooked smile. It felt odd to smile like so; nothing had felt any more bitter. It was nothing like what he was used to: a sensation of dark and twisted confidence in himself. "After all, I want to do things I haven't been able to do before... and this is my chance."

_**You've lacked the means to do them until now. Why not take advantage of them? It's not all that bad.**_

A chuckle came. Dark, low, soothing, inspiring.

_**You said you rejected power because it corrupted people. You said greed blinds you, makes you single-minded on your quest. Now you find yourself enticed by that same power and greed, you find yourself wanting to do everything you've always wished to and more... and you can do it now. Whatever shall you do from here on out? **_

"I'll keep striving for it," Chris said, nodding. "And if it feels this good, then I'll do everything to preserve it."

All of a sudden, doubts assailed him. Would he be on the right path?

_**The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Remember, you're close to falling off the edge.**_

"Speaking of edges..." With enthusiasm, Chris grinned widely and stood on the edge of the building. The streets down below him were brimming with life, lights of cars and stores all around.

The wind blew almost as if on cue, bringing scents he had never recognized before. It was more than exciting, exhilarating, invigorating.

_Power..._

"Perhaps," Chris spoke with a pleased and lenient nod, "but until I fall, I still have time on my side."

_**Remember Umbrella's motto?**_

"_Power is life."_

The words came to him like a heavy tile crashing down on his mind, but he paid no heed to it. For once, he could agree with said motto. For once, he was rejecting his beliefs. For once, he was changing.

"Power is what I'm searching for... to kill him, once and for all." Chris closed his eyes. "And I won't stop until I get it. With that power, I'll get back everything he's taken away from me."

_**What then?**_

"After that... it's improvising."

Silence, long and comfortable. With one last gust of wind, he heard a sentence that would keep him going until the end.

_**Show no mercy to those who oppose you.**_

"No mercy."

Power.

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**_A/N: So yes, this is the end to this story. Have in mind everything I've said in the initial author's note and you will all be fine XD If I may ask one last favor, I'd like to hear sincere opinions about this story overall, on whatever aspects you may want to comment on. Please, be honest and point out whatever flaws it may've had so that the sequel does not sin the same way xD_

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_

_THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH, GUYS! X3333_


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